BY  WHITING  WILLIAMS 


HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED   ELBOWS 
The  Worker's  Mind  in  Western  Europe 

FULL  UP  AND  FED  UP.     The  Worker's  Mind 
in  Crowded  Britain 

WHAT'S  ON  THE  WORKER'S  MIND.    By  One 
Who  Put  on  Overalls  to  Find  Out 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


HORNY  HANDS  AND 
HAMPERED  ELBOWS 


HORNY  HANDS  AND 
HAMPERED   ELBOWS 


THE  WORKER'S  MIND  IN  WESTERN 
EUROPE 


BY 
WHITING  WILLIAMS 


WITH   ILLUSTKATIONS 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1922 


COPYRIGHT,  1922,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 
Published  November,  1922 


CONTENTS 

PART  I— WITH  THE  WORKERS 

CHAPTER  PAQB 

I.    THE  PicTUKE-PuzzLE  OF  EUROPE    ....  3 

II.    WITH  THE  STEELMEN  OF  DEVASTATED  FRANCE  20 

III.  " FRENCH  NIGHTS  IN  A  BARROOM"  ....  37 

IV.  HATE  AND  HOPE  AT  HEROIC  LENS  ....  57 

V.    BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS — AND 

ABOVE 68 

VI.    OTHER  VICTIMS  OF  A  NEW  KIND  OF  WAR      .  90 

VII.    A  BIRD'S-EYE  VIEW  OF  BELGIUM    ....  101 

VIII.      KRUPP'S  AND  THE   CANNON   CAPITAL       .       .       .  109 

IX.    THE   WORKERS   IN   GERMANY'S    "PITTSBURGH 

DISTRICT" 132 

X.     "HAIL  COLUMBIA  UEBER  ALLES!"  ....  140 

XI.     "MORT    POUR    LA    FRANCE" — FRENCH    UN- 
KNOWNS       146 

XII.    IN  "THE  HOT-SPOT  OF  EUROPE"    ....  159 

XIII.    POLITICS  AND  POTATOES  IN  THE  SAAR  .     .     .  173 

799053 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

XIV.  THE  "HALL  OP  THE  REFOKMATION"     .     .     .  192 

XV.  PARIS — AND  BY  AIR  TO  ENGLAND     ....  220 

XVI.    READJUSTMENT  IN  ENGLAND 235 

PART  II— CONCLUSIONS 

XVII.    HORNY  HANDS 249 

XVIII.    HAMPERED  ELBOWS 260 

XIX.  THE  (DIS)UNITED  STATES  OF  EUROPE?      .     .  272 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Outside"  workers  at  a  mine  in  St.  Etienne  in  south-central 
France Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

Mr.  Williams  as  he  is,  and  in  his  "protective  colorations"    .     .      22 

The  landlord  of  the  "Tout  Va  Bien"  at  Douai  was  kinder  to 
his  two  pets  than  to  his  wife  or  little  Suzanne 44 

Little  gleaners  in  the  fields  near  Lens 66 

"Certainly  it  is  hard  to  imagine  a  city  so  demoralized  in  its 
actuality  yet  so  devoted  in  its  aspiration  as  Lens"  ....  66 

The  insertion  of  timber  supports  with  their  "top  pieces"  at 
certain  distances  is  definitely  prescribed  by  mining  law  in  all 
countries  .  76 


Fellow-workers  in  the  coal  pit  near  Lens 


Even  the  young  girls  in  the  district  appear  to  form  in  early 
years  the  same  "habitude"  of  hard,  horny-handed  work  .  .  86 

Bessemer  converter 96 

"The  thoroughly  attractive  cottages  furnished  the  workers  worn 
out  in  the  Krupp  service,  each  group  in  a  colony  by  itself, 
married,  unmarried,  widows,  widowers,  etc." 118 

Workers  inspecting  cheap  suitings  outside  one  of  the  scores  of 
gates  leading  into  the  huge  Krupp  establishment  ....  130 

A  group  of  war  orphans  at  Elberfeld 130 

At  Elberfeld  the  Zoo  and  its  denizens  share  the  Sunday  after- 
noon crowds  with  football 134 

vii 


viii  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PACING  PAGE 

German  coal-miners  of  the  Saar  leaving  town  for  the  shaft  of  a 
coal-mine  several  miles  in  the  country 182 

"The  hot-spot  of  Europe" 182 

The  closeness  between  modern  industrial  and  conservative  agri- 
cultural France  is  typified  in  Le  Creusot 218 

In  Europe  generally,  as  in  this  suburb  of  Paris,  everybody  works, 
including  the  dog 218 


INTRODUCTION 

MY  "overalls"  studies  of  the  American  common 
laborer  in  1919,  as  described  in  "What's  On  the  Worker's 
Mind,"  resulted  in  a  profound  conviction,  first,  of  the 
vital  importance  to  the  worker  of  the  possession  of  the 
job — of  the  getting  and  the  gripping  of  the  chance  to 
work — and,  further,  of  the  vast  importance  to  the 
worker's  character  and  life  of  the  job's  physical,  mental, 
and  spiritual  conditions. 

The  experiences  of  1920  in  Great  Britain,  as  recounted 
in  "Full  Up  and  Fed  Up,"  resulted  in  the  belief  that  an 
understanding  of  these  "Big  Four  Factors,"  and  their 
part  in  shaping  the  careers  of  a  nation's  unskilled  labor- 
ers, furnished  a  useful  key  for  understanding  not  only 
that  nation's  industrial  life,  but  also  its  social  and  politi- 
cal development  as  well. 

That  should  not  be  strange.  For  without  doubt  it  is 
true  for  all  of  us  at  all  times  that: — 

We  tend  to  live  our  way  into  our  thinking  infinitely 
more  than  we  tend  to  think  our  way  into  our  living. 

If  that  is  true,  then  it  is  bound  to  carry  all  the  physi- 
cal, mental,  and  spiritual  conditions  of  our  modern  work 
into  the  very  centre  of  our  modern  living  and  feeling  to 
an  extent  far  beyond  anything  we  have  heretofore  been 

ix 


x  INTRODUCTION 

willing  to  admit.  For  in  this  industrial  age  it  is  un- 
deniably true  for  the  great  majority  of  us  that:— 

The  most  compelling  and  the  most  inescapable  forces 
for  determining  the  conditions  of  our  living — and  hence 
of  our  thinking  and  feeling — are  the  conditions  under 
which  we  work  to  earn  our  daily  bread — the  conditions 
of  our  job. 

Epictetus  described  a  huge  factor  for  explaining  na- 
tions as  well  as  individuals — also  spiritual,  as  well  as 
moral  or  manual  achievement,  when  he  wrote: 

"What  do  you  think  Hercules  would  have  been  if 
there  had  not  been  such  a  lion,  and  hydra,  and  stag,  and 
boar,  and  certain  unjust  and  bestial  men  whom  Hercules 
used  to  drive  away  and  clear  out?  .  .  .  Why,  then,  he 
would  not  have  been  Hercules !" 

The  summer  of  '21,  herewith  reported,  represents  partly 
the  desire  to  observe  any  unusual  by-products  appearing 
in  the  social  field  as  the  result  of  differences  in  the  work- 
ing conditions  of  the  French  and  German  populations. 
Partly,  also,  it  represents  the  bold  hope  that  the  worker's 
mind  as  affected  by  these  conditions  might  furnish  us 
some  helpful  hint  regarding  the  near  future  of  western 
Europe,  and  hence  of  the  world,  by  revealing  the  mental 
and  emotional  forces  now  at  work  in  its  formation. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  in  this  approach  my 
primary  purpose  is  neither  to  prove  any  thesis  nor  to 
propose  any  particular  remedy.  So  far  as  possible  the 
aim  is  to  make  a  camera  of  myself  for  recording  as  faith- 
fully as  feasible  the  feelings,  attitudes,  and  view-points 
encountered,  together  with  the  individual  setting  of  which 
they  were  a  part. 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  effort  has  been  to  get  close 
to  the  life  and  work — and  so  to  the  mind — of  the  un- 
skilled, common  laborer  in  the  basic  industries  of  iron, 
steel,  and  coal.  One  reason  for  this  is  that  the  field  of 
the  skilled  artisan  is  in  every  country  too  varied  and 
diverse  to  cover  in  one,  or  even  several  lifetimes.  The 
chief  reason  is  that  the  conditions  of  a  nation's  unskilled 
labor  represent  the  lowest  common  denominator  for 
building  up  the  rest  of  the  nation's  entire  industrial  and 
social  equation. 

Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  the  foundations  of 
our  modern  House  of  Industry  and  Life  rest  finally  upon 
the  brawn  and  the  brain  and  the  heart  of  our  unskilled, 
common  laborer. 

If  in  these  critical  days  we  are  to  know  whether  these 
foundations  of  our  industry  and  life  in  America  or  Eu- 
rope are  stable  or  unstable,  we  must  somehow  contrive 
to  get  a  better  understanding  of  the  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings of  the  great  mass  of  our  humblest  workers. 

By  our  thesis  the  only  way  to  secure  such  knowledge 
is  to  know  the  worker  on  his  job. 

The  reader  must  judge  the  extent  to  which  the  experi- 
ences herewith  related  support  my  previous  deductions, 
justify  my  underlying  purposes,  or  fulfil  my  resultant 
hopes.  In  any  case  I  appeal,  on  behalf  of  the  men  and 
women  who  will  speak  from  out  these  pages,  for  the  same 
sympathetic  hearing  which  it  has  been  my  earnest  effort 
—and  my  deep  joy — to  afford  them  when  we  were  face 
to  face. 


PART  I 
WITH  THE  WORKERS 


CHAPTER  I        • 

THE  PICTURE-PUZZLE  OF  EUROPE  |  :  ;,  ; 

Paris,  France, 
July  20,  1921. 

IN  the  mornings  it's  not  so  bad.  But  by  afternoon 
the  summer's  enterprise  begins  to  look  all  but  impossible. 
Then  I  get  to  feeling  like  a  lad  before  a  heaped-up  mess 
of  the  red,  white,  and  blue  pieces  of  a  jig-saw  puzzle — 
faced  by  the  necessity  of  somehow  making  a  picture  out 
of  it  before  the  whistle  blows  for  my  return. 

But  perhaps  the  blues  of  this  particular  afternoon 
come  from  getting  into  the  heart  of  this  jig-saw  "mess 
of  Europe  "  too  suddenly.  For  my  morning  has  been 
spent  at  a  meeting  of  "the  Sub-Committee  on  the  Limi- 
tation of  Armaments  of  the  League  of  Nations"!  The 
honorable  gentlemen  of  the  committee  appear  to  be  in 
much  the  same  picture-puzzle  predicament.  Still  they 
did  not  seem  particularly  depressed  at  what  certainly 
looked  like  a  slow  start  at  the  solution  of  their  colossal 
problem.  A  certain  strangeness  and  stiffness  of  manner 
at  the  beginning,  evidently  the  result  of  different  lan- 
guage and  manners,  soon  wore  off  and  the  gentlemen 
began  lowering  their  voices  from  the  grand-stand  pitch 
of  the  first  hour.  A  little  later  the  representative  of  the 
French  working  men  was  smoking  the  cigarettes  of  the 
Italian  general,  or  the  Chilean  or  British  statesman. 

And  to-morrow  will  furnish  the  satisfaction  of  starting 
the  search  for  a  job  in  the  steel  plants  and  mines  up 

3 


4      HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

north.  Yesterday,  luckily,  permitted  a  reconnoitring 
visit  to  what  ought  to  be  called  the  artisans'  rather  than 
the  laborers'  quarter  over  by  the  Vincennes  Gate.  At 
a  crowded  restaurant  it  was  easy  to  see  that  the  workers 
were  highly  skilled  men.  Some  of  them  wear  glasses 
which  make  them  look  almost  like  the  studio  artists  of 
the  Latin  Quarter — especially  when  combined  with  their 
long  studio-coats  of  light-colored  denim.  In  fact,  the 
small  furniture  factories  or  machine-shops  which  fill  the 
neighborhood  are  called  "  ateliers,"  our  word,  exclusively, 
for  studios.  The  restaurant  itself,  like  most  of  them  in 
the  district,  was  on  a  broad  and  handsome  boulevard. 
A  few  of  the  streets  encountered  are  pretty  bad  as  com- 
pared with  the  greater  part  of  this  amazingly  cleanly 
and  comfortable  city.  But  even  at  that  they  are  far  and 
away  better  than  miles  and  miles  of  such  streets  as  are 
furnished  by  London,  or,  say,  Chicago.  Also  they  are 
enormously  better  than  the  streets  and  the  homes  found 
just  beyond  the  fortifications  and  the  city  gates  in  St. 
Ouen  and  St.  Denis.  These  quarters  of  the  poorer  and 
least  skilled  workers  are  filled  with  great  factories,  gas 
plants,  chemical  establishments  and  slaughter-houses— 
also  with  the  worst  smells  encountered  outside  the  chem- 
ical laboratory  at  college. 

In  this  district  it  is  easy  to  see  that  drinking  is  much 
worse — just  about  as  much  worse,  in  fact,  as  is  the  sani- 
tation of  the  streets  or  the  plumbing  of  the  houses.  The 
summer's  first  drunken  man  (outside  the  celebration  of 
July  14)  turned  up  at  the  restaurant.  Except  for  him, 
the  drinking  of  the  lunch-time  beer  and  wine  appeared 
wholly  without  result.  Outside  the  gates,  many,  many 


THE  PICTURE-PUZZLE  OF  EUROPE  5 

faces  showed  that  too  much  alcohol  was  a  fairly  regular 
affair.  After  so  close — so  typically  close — a  tie-up  of 
working,  living,  and  thirsting  conditions  as  the  quarter 
furnishes,  it  is  not  surprising  to  read  the  many  notices 
still  left  upon  the  bulletin-boards.  These  called  upon 
the  workers  to  rise  up  and  put  an  end  to  the  foolish  and 
footless  war  and  make  the  start  at  once  into  the  era  of 
international  peace  and  brotherhood  which  was  promised 
to  follow  the  moment  the  " working  classes"  in  all  na- 
tions decided  to  take  matters  into  their  own  hands. 

It  would  be  attractive  to  stay  and  dig  deeper  into  the 
bad  jobs  which  are  pretty  likely  to  furnish  the  cause  of 
the  unhappiness  which  expresses  itself  in  these  ways  of 
"rum  and  revolution" — also  to  discover  whether  these 
jobs  might  not  be  so  mastered  by  the  French  tempera- 
ment as  to  make  even  coke-plant  and  slaughter-house 
laborers  happy !  Remembering  how  every  worker  wants 
to  believe  in  the  importance  of  his  job  and  so  of  himself, 
exactly  that  is  more  nearly  conceivable  than  we  are  apt 
to  think.  But  such  working  conditions  are  likely  to  re- 
main for  some  tune  very  different  from  the  clean,  com- 
fortable, and  well-lighted  though  crowded,  little  machine- 
shop  I  visited  earlier  in  the  day  inside  the  walls. 

This  was  run  by  a  young  captain  who  spent  two  years 
during  the  war  in  America  inspecting  French  war-sup- 
plies. His  twenty-five  workers  make  various  sorts  and 
sizes  of  wooden  tanks,  some  of  them  giving  their  entire 
days  to  making  small  useful  and  artistic  wooden  bottles. 
They  do  not  look  rushed  but  manage  to  get  in  about  fifty 
hours — at  two  to  three  francs — a  week  and  still  have 
"la  semaine  Anglaise,"  that  is,  the  Saturday  half -holiday, 


6      HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

said  to  be  spreading  among  the  city's  offices  and  artistic 
establishments. 

The  captain  thinks  the  high  percentage  of  the  popula- 
tion on  French  farms  or  in  small  French  cities  and  towns 
is  mainly  responsible  for  the  remarkable  "  equilibrium " 
of  the  ordinary  industrial  conditions  and  relations  here. 
Just  lately  the  increase  of  industrial  unemployment  has 
been,  he  thinks,  a  benefit  to  the  country  because  it  has 
helped  to  send  back  to  the  farms  the  overplus  of  workers 
called  into  the  cities  by  the  war.  Similarly,  their  original 
departure  for  the  city  caused  a  needed  increase  of  farm 
wages.  As  for  unions,  the  captain  reports  his  own  and 
also  his  workers'  indifference  to  the  matter  of  their  mem- 
bership. 

In  that  connection  the  clerk  here  at  the  little  hotel 
used  a  typically  neat  French  phrase  for  our  very  violent 
but  expressive  verb,  "to  fire." 

"It  is  that  there  are  too  few  to  answer,"  she  explained 
when  I  finally  gave  up  the  effort  with  the  "apparatus," 
as  the  telephone  is  called.  "You  see,  to  save  money — 
for  our  government  owns  the  phones  and  it  has  no  money 
— they  have  given  many  employees  their  'thanks.' ' 

This  morning  the  newspaper  gives  an  extended  com- 
ment by  a  former  deputy  on  the  heavy  loss  accompany- 
ing the  telephone  service — or  lack  of  it.  The  system 
was  taken  over  as  far  back  as  1889  when  it  was  making 
a  lot  of  money  for  its  private  owners,  and  so  looked  like 
a  proper  subject  for  government  operation — and  profit. 
This  past  year  it  has  managed  to  lose  the  astonishing 
sum  of  220,000,000  francs!  In  addition,  the  equipment 
is  in  such  bad  repair  that  the  prospect  is  good  for  both 


THE  PICTURE-PUZZLE  OF  EUROPE  7 

higher  rates  and  still  smaller  circulation.  The  chances 
are  certainly  far  from  favorable  to  any  early  spending 
of  the  1,500,000,000  francs  required  for  the  system's 
renovation. 

"In  America,"  concludes  the  article,  "there  is  one 
phone  for  each  8  inhabitants;  in  Denmark  one  for  each 
17;  in  Sweden,  each  27;  in  Switzerland,  each  42;  in 
Germany,  59;  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  64;  Belgium, 
133.  In  France  we  have  one  phone — such  as  it  is — for 
each  143  citizens!" 

In  spite  of  these  "thanks,"  there  are  considerably 
fewer  unemployed  workers  here  than  the  reported  mil- 
lion and  more  in  Great  Britain  and  the  two  or  three  mil- 
lions in  America. 

"France  would  be  the  most  prosperous  country  in  the 
world  if  she  could  somehow  get  a  signed  statement  that 
America  and  England  would  help  her  in  case  of  unwar- 
ranted attack  by  Germany,"  according  to  a  local  Amer- 
ican correspondent.  "As  it  is,  her  sleep  is  one  long  night- 
mare from  the  fear  of  Germany's  attacking  her  again  for 
the  final '  third  strike  and  out' — the  ultimate  death-stroke 
—before  the  rest  of  the  world  can  come  to  her  protec- 
tion." 

Industrial  conditions  here  are  undoubtedly  much  more 
affected  by  all  these  international  matters  than  ours 
would  be  at  home.  The  morning  head-lines  are  usually 
so  filled  with  them  that  you  get  the  feeling  that  France, 
at  least,  just  can't  get  completely  down  to  work  until 
her  national  fears  are  somehow  lessened.  Nevertheless, 
it  is  surprising  to  find  so  little  talk  about  national  sorrows 
and  so  much  about  national  resuscitation  and  salvation. 


8      HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

This  last  is  said  to  be  the  cause  of  the  failure  of  the 
great  general  strike  on  the  railways  and  elsewhere  here  a 
year  ago  last  May.  Many  of  the  workers  were  interested 
to  see  what  the  radicals  could  do  but  not  willing  to  pay 
any  very  great  price  for  the  show.  So  its  main  result 
was  the  break-up  of  the  "Confederation  Generate  du  Tra- 
vail"— the  "C.  G.  T.,"  as  it  is  called  ordinarily,  like  our 
"A.  F.  of  L."  Its  conservative  members — they  are  So- 
cialists— are  fighting  the  radicals  or  Communists  for  con- 
trol— without  hope  of  peace  or  even  quarter  from  either 
side.  As  a  result,  the  labor  movement  here  is  what  might 
be  called  "shot  to  pieces" — in  spite  of  the  dignity  lent  it 
by  the  organization  of  the  country's  editors,  journalists, 
and  authors  in  what  is  called  "The  Intellectual  Workers' 
Union/'  ordinarily  dubbed  "The  Brain  Trust." 

On  the  job  or  off,  it  looks  as  though  the  "working 
class,"  as  it  is  called  by  everybody,  and  the  employers 
and  ordinary  people  who  make  up  the  "bourgeoisie  "  are 
considerably  farther  apart  here  than  at  home.  Here  in 
Paris,  at  least,  it  appears,  also,  that  both  groups  give  the 
rest  of  their  time,  after  France's  security  against  attack, 
to  matters  more  or  less  aesthetic  and  artistic.  The  strange 
thing  is  that  somehow  the  French — and  presumably  the 
Latin — temperament  appears  to  find  it  entirely  easy  to 
include  in  the  realm  of  the  artistic  the  matter  of  sex. 

I  don't  see  how  that  piece  can  be  fitted  into  the  rest 
of  the  puzzle.  Is  this  strange  emphasis  the  result  of  any 
development  of  France's  history,  for  instance?  Could 
it  be,  for  example,  one  result  of  the  "generation  of  de- 
feat," of  the  men  who  grew  up  with  the  bitterness  of 
1870  in  their  souls,  and  who  hated  anybody  that  accepted 


THE  PICTURE-PUZZLE  OF  EUEOPE  9 

the  world  as  it  was  and  tried,  therefore,  to  make  the  best 
of  it  and  still  to  find  room  for  some  sort  of  achievement 
in  the  field  of  philosophies  and  ideals,  sentiments  and 
emotions  ? 

If  so,  will  the  commerce  and  industry  of  the  new  post- 
war France — aided  by  the  present  "generation  of  the 
victory " — serve  to  modify  these  interests?  Or  is  it  less 
her  history  and  more  her  years — her  age — that  furnishes 
the  matrix  in  which  these  national  characteristics  have 
developed?  In  that  case,  will  our  American  attitudes 
toward  marriage  and  sex,  and  government  and  industry 
grow  more  like  the  French  when  we  have  become  a  settled 
people  after  a  few  more  hundreds  of  years? 

What  a  puzzle !  .  .  .  But  I  must  get  some  of  the  pieces 
into  my  hands  for  a  closer  look !  Early  to-morrow  I'll 
be  passing  through  Amiens  in  search  of  a  steel  plant  or 
a  coal-mine  and  a  job.  Up  there  in  the  midst  of  such 
thrilling  names  as  Lens,  Arras,  Cambrai,  Douai,  Peronne, 
it  will  be  odd  to  see  no  marching  soldiers.  But  it  will 
also  be  thrilling  to  see  men  spitting  on  their  hands — if 
they  do  that  here — and  sweating  over  their  shovels  and 
picks  in  the  effort  to  bring  back  their  world  again. 

After  all,  these  people  over  here  must  find  the  whole 
picture  a  good  deal  of  a  puzzle  to  themselves ! 

I'll  feel  better,  anyway,  if  they  do. 

Douai,  North  France, 
Thursday,  July  21,  1921. 

Distance  is  certainly  a  matter  not  so  much  of  miles  as 
of  mind — more  of  feelings  than  of  geography.  To-day 
has  been  "the  day  of  the  great  removal." 


10    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

Oddly  enough  that  "one  telephone  per  143  inhabi- 
tants," is  very  much  to  blame  for  this  sensation  of  lone- 
someness;  for  part  of  the  feeling,  I  suspect,  is  furnished 
by  my  feet.  The  little  town  in  which  a  possible  employer 
lived  furnished  no  midday  train,  and  only  one  or  two  tele- 
phones !  So  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  walk  about 
twelve  kilometres,  or  seven  miles,  through  the  open  coun- 
try. But  before  that 

It  was  at  Albert,  five  miles  northeast  of  Amiens,  that 
we  first  ran  into  the  battle-lines.  Both  Albert  and  Arras, 
five  miles  farther  north,  were  fearfully  shot  up,  with  few 
buildings  of  former  times  left.  In  the  country  between 
them  the  battered  trenches  look  unspeakably  sinister,  and 
the  few  trees  left  are  nothing  but  telegraph-poles.  But 
in  both  these  towns  signs  of  the  "reconstitution"  of  things 
are  extremely  evident :  the  staccato  of  the  riveting  ham- 
mers make  a  joyful  sound  in  the  land,  or  at  least  in  the 
stations.  An  amazing  amount  has  been  accomplished. 
Best  of  all,  many  of  the  former  battle-fields  are  now  ripe 
and  yellow  with  great  stands  of  grain,  besides  red  and 
blue  with  harvesting  machines  said  to  have  been  made 
in  America.  These  make  a  happy  combination  with  the 
green  and  yellow  of  the  landscape  and  the  red  of  the 
newly  tiled  roofs  of  reviving  farmhouses,  not  to  mention 
the  white  kerchiefs  of  the  men  and  women  helping  to 
stack  the  golden  sheaves.  At  the  edges  of  many  fields, 
however,  are  huge  and  depressing  masses  of  wicked  and 
rusty  barbed  wire  and,  in  others,  almost  acres  of  sheet- 
iron  stretched  over  low  walls  still  kindly  enough  to  offer 
a  little  shelter  to  some  ambitious  person. 

At  Douai  the  damage  is  not  so  much  from  bombard- 


THE  PICTURE-PUZZLE  OF  EUROPE  11 

ment  as  at  Arras,  a  few  minutes  farther  south.  The 
reason  is  that  this  city — it  had  30,000  before  the  war — 
was  taken  over  by  the  Germans  as  early  as  October,  1914, 
and  successfully  held  up  to  the  moment  of  the  Great  Re- 
treat in  October,  1918.  Before  they  left,  the  invaders 
burned  up  a  large  part  of  the  town  bordering  on  the  public 
square.  But,  for  the  most  part,  the  city  appears  to  be 
getting  back  to  normal  with  fair  rapidity. 

At  a  near-by  mine  town  a  friend  was  expected  to  honor 
a  letter  of  introduction  by  helping  to  a  job.  In  the  ab- 
sence of  trains  and  telephones,  I  started  off  to  "hoof  it," 
in  high  hopes  of  a  lift  from  some  passing  driver  of  horse 
or  auto.  Perhaps  I  didn't  use  the  right  words  or  signs, 
or  was  too  uncouth  in  my  worker  clothes.  Anyway,  not 
one  of  the  autos  even  hesitated — in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
almost  all  of  them  were  of  American  make.  Such  re- 
fusals— plus  a  pair  of  weary  legs — are  calculated  to  make 
a  fellow  feel  a  long,  long  way  from  Leicester  Square  and 
Euclid  Avenue ! 

Still  it  was  worth  while  to  have  time  to  get  acquainted 
with  a  fellow  worker  and  to  enjoy  the  sight  of  literally 
dozens  of  busy  coal-mines,  each  topped  by  its  little  roof 
for  the  protection  of  the  great  " sheaves"  or  "pulley- 
wheels"  of  the  tipple.  The  invaders  used  the  mines  little 
and  did  them  great  damage  before  leaving,  but  they  are 
reported  in  immensely  better  shape  than  those  at  Lens, 
about  a  dozen  miles  west  and  north.  The  big  dumps 
indicate  that  a  lot  of  fuel  has  been  taken  out  in  times 
past,  and  the  neat  condition  of  the  houses,  many  of  them 
new,  indicates  abundant  hope  of  finding  plenty  more  of 
the  good  fuel  in  the  future.^  It  gives  a  fellow  a  start, 


12    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

though,  to  see  an  occasional  house  in  which  people  are 
living  in  apparent  comfort  in  spite  of  a  great  round  shell- 
hole  six  feet  wide  in  both  walls ! 

The  walking  gave  plenty  of  tune  to  read  the  district's 
war  adventures,  written  in  many  languages.  "Nach 
Douhi,"  with  its  great  white  German  arrow,  was  close  to 
"Lorries  this  way,"  and  " Stragglers'  collecting  station"— 
evidences  of  the  later  pursuit.  At  every  corner  the  great 
signs  and  large  names  were  very  evidently  planned  for  men 
either  hi  the  dark  or  in  a  great  hurry.  In  many  places 
the  usual  roadside  trees  had  been  destroyed — with  new 
ones  often  already  in  evidence.  The  few  cattle  have  all 
been  brought  in  lately,  for  the  country's  captors  over- 
looked no  such  detail.  One  man,  limping  along  and  lead- 
ing a  tiny  donkey  hugely  overtopped  by  a  great  load 
of  bedding  and  furniture,  suggested  the  dreadful  days 
of  the  invasion.  The  load  proved  to  be  mattresses  and 
chairs,  all  brand-new.  It  is  the  sign  of  the  new  times 
here. 

The  estaminet  or  bar-room  for  the  noon  lunch  in  a  coal 
village  was,  strangely  enough,  filled  with  Italian  miners. 
One  boy  was  unhappy  about  his  seventeen  francs  a  day 
and  the  short  distance  it  went  toward  his  board  and  room 
of  nine  francs.  All  the  miners  of  the  country  are  reported 
very  unhappy  and  more  or  less  extreme:  in  the  letter 
of  introduction  and  protection  which  I  carry  from  their 
chief  in  Paris,  he  addresses  his  associates  as  "  Comrades," 
a  term  supposed  to  indicate  friendliness  to  Bolshevism. 
But  the  decent  homes  and  the  clean  faces  of  most  of  the 
miners  encountered  show  prosperity  and  contentment. 
Hundreds  of  workers  seem  to  live  in  the  comfortable- 


THE  PICTURE-PUZZLE  OF  EUROPE  13 

looking  villages,  and  use  bicycles  on  the  good  cinder  paths 
for  getting  to  their  work.  Many  of  them,  too,  had  evi- 
dently come  " outside"  for  enjoying  the  usual  long  noon 
lunch  period  of  nearly  two  hours  with  their  families  at 
home. 

But  of  all  this  I  hope  to  know  more  later,  for  there 
surely  must  be  a  job  for  me  in  what  is  said  to  be  the  heart 
of  industrial  France,  and  certainly  looks  it.  No  wonder 
the  invaders  broke  through  here  and  held  onto  it !  The 
strange  part  is  that  it  is  only  three  hours  by  fast  train 
from  Paris.  It  feels  like  several  days.  Supper  here — the 
long  walk  was  fruitless! — has  been  eaten  over  a  clean 
white  oil-cloth  alongside  several  workers  who  mix  many 
Italian  words  into  a  language  which  isn't  French  or  any- 
thing else  I've  ever  met  before.  They  are  employed  in 
certain  clothing  factories  here.  That  looks  friendly  to 
my  hope  to  find  work  to-morrow  in  the  big  steel  plant 
where  I  mean  to  try  to  see  the  director  in  the  morning. 

Here's  hoping  to  draw  as  satisfactory  a  bed  as  the  din- 
ner. 

Douai, 

Friday,  July  22,  1921. 

Well,  it  took  all  my  letters  and  a  lot  of  very  bad 
French.  But  that's  a  small  price  to  pay  for  a  chance  to 
start  work  to-morrow  morning  at  six  in  an  attractive, 
modern,  2,000-man  steel  plant.  For  some  reason  the 
manager  found  surprisingly  little  trouble  in  understand- 
ing my  idea,  perhaps  because  one  of  my  introductions 
shown  him  stated  so  well  my  interest  in  the  study  of 
"the  mentality  of  the  working  class,"  as  the  French 
writer  of  the  letter  put  it. 


14    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

Without  these  letters  from  a  well-known  engineer  and 
manufacturer  in  Paris,  by  the  way,  a  job  would  be  an 
utter  impossibility  here.  Outside  one  of  the  mines  of 
the  neighborhood,  for  instance,  a  notice  states  that  any 
applicant  must  have  his  card  of  dismissal  from  the  army, 
his  card  of  identity  from  his  home  town,  and  several 
other  similar  certificates.  So  my  passport  would  be  a 
give-away  except  for  the  co-operation  of  the  "  higher- 
ups." 

The  letter  of  introduction  thus  required  also  presents 
fewer  complications  than  the  plan  suggested  by  a  French 
adviser  last  winter  hi  America. 

"That  will  arrange  itself,"  he  answered  when  I  asked 
what  to  say  in  case  my  presence  in  a  French  town  needed 
explanation.  "First  you  can  plan  an  arrival-stay  in, 
say,  a  port  city  where  there  will  be  many  Americans  al- 
ready. After  that  you  will  go  to  an  interior  city.  When 
they  ask  you  why  you  are  there,  you  can  merely  say: 
'J'ai  une  amie'  (I  have  a  lady  friend.)  Then  they  will 
understand  and  they  will  smile  and  all  will  be  well." 

When  it  came  to  putting  me  on  the  job,  the  super- 
intendent told  my  boss  that  I  had  been  recommended 
to  them  as  an  American  who  was  anxious  to  better  his 
condition,  and  so  had  worked  his  way  across  in  order  to 
learn  more  about  steel-making  and  steel-working  in 
France  during  the  period  of  unemployment  at  home. 
Oddly 'enough,  also  by  great  good  luck,  in  view  of  my  new- 
ness to  "factory  French,"  this  boss  is  an  Englishman! 
Apparently  he's  a  sign  of  the  general  "mix-up"  caused 
by  the  war  as  observed  in  yesterday's  walk.  "M'sieu' 
Toam"  (Tom),  as  the  others  call  him,  is  a  bright-looking, 


THE  PICTURE-PUZZLE  OF  EUROPE  15 

light-mustached  Cockney  who  has  spent  years  in  the 
factories  and  the  cattle-ranches  of  "the  States,"  Aus- 
tralia, South  Africa,  New  Zealand,  China,  and  various 
other  points  east,  west,  and  south.  After  helping  drive 
out  the  Germans  from  the  town  here,  he  married  a  French 
girl  and  appears  to  feel  happy  and  settled  for  life.  He 
says  this  is  the  best  job  run  into  yet,  and  that's  saying 
a  lot. 

On  his  advice,  my  overalls  have  been  secured  hi  the 
market  stalls  of  the  main  square — at  thirty-one  francs. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  they  may  some  day  show  as  good 
a  record  of  manifold  launderings  and  multitudinous  mend- 
ings as  do  most  of  the  working  clothes  of  this  plant,  and, 
indeed,  of  the  whole  region.  The  big  factory  is  being 
rebuilt  with  money  paid  by  the  government  in  view  of 
the  complete  destruction  of  the  old  plant,  as  accomplished 
by  the  invaders  who  overworked  a  lot  of  acetylene  torches 
on  its  steel  columns  and  stanchions  during  the  last  few 
days  before  their  retreat.  As  yet  the  new  buildings  are 
only  partly  filled  with  machinery,  but  it's  already  a  very 
noisy  and  active  place,  filled  with  what  look  like  workers 
well  above  ordinary  laborers  in  point  of  skill  and  train- 
ing- 

One  of  these  is  to  be  my  landlord.  What  sort  of  place 
his  establishment  is  remains  a  question,  but  it  is  evi- 
dently the  kind  of  boarding-house  which  goes  with  the 
job,  and  that's  the  important  thing.  At  any  rate,  its 
name  sounds  good — "Estaminet  Tout  Va  Bien"  (All  goes 
well). 

"Not  bad,  physically,"  said  one  storekeeper  this  after- 
noon when  asked  how  the  town  was  treated  by  "les 


16    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

boches,"  as  everybody  calls  their  recent  captors,  " Mor- 
ally, very  bad.  Nothing  but  a  great  prison,  the  whole 
city — with  thousands  of  our  men  who  didn't  get  off  to 
the  army  in  time  put  to  work  under  armed  guards  in  the 
trenches  or  the  mines  near  by." 

The  situation  should  become  plainer  as  the  French 
department  of  my  ears  improves.  It  needed  little  skill, 
however,  to  learn  from  the  verger  in  the  old  church 
that  it  had  been  stripped  of  every  piece  of  metal- 
bells,  chandeliers,  railings,  lamps,  candlesticks — every- 
thing! The  great  organ  appeared  shockingly  bereaved 
and  forlorn  with  nothing  but  gaping  spaces  where  the 
great  pipes  had  been.  A  huge  hole  in  the  roof  has  just 
been  repaired.  It  was  made  by  an  English  bombing 
plane — in  the  attempt  to  "put  out  the  eyes"  of  the  Ger- 
mans believed  to  be  using  the  high  tower  as  a  point  of 
observation.  Throughout  the  city's  lawns,  squares,  and 
parks,  statues  have  been  despoiled  of  every  inch  of  metal 
even  down  to  the  lettering. 

The  foreigners  were  in  complete  control  from  about 
October  2,  1914,  up  to  the  middle  of  October,  1918.  Local 
picture  postals  show  many  imposing  reviews  of  the  troops 
with  their  goose-steps  and  similar  doings — including  a 
grand  celebration  during  a  visit  from  the  Kaiser  himself. 
From  all  accounts,  a  good  many  women  are  suffering 
now  from  the  cold  shoulders  caused  by  their  wearing  too 
many  fine  clothes  and  getting  their  food  too  easily  during 
those  difficult  days.  The  strange  thing,  on  the  whole, 
is  that,  apparently,  a  large  number  were  able  to  save 
both  their  lives  and  their  self-respect  at  the  hands  of  the 
soldiers  and  officers  billeted  all  over  the  place.  Condi- 


THE  PICTURE-PUZZLE  OF  EUROPE  17 

tions  must  have  been  different  from  those  of  the  early 
days  in  Belgium.  Just  before  the  final  evacuation,  how- 
ever, about  a  month  before  Armistice  Day — all  the  citi- 
zens were  ordered  out,  and  the  town  pillaged  disgrace- 
fully. Finally,  a  fire  was  set  which  destroyed  most  of 
the  buildings  around  the  main  square.  Most  of  the  ma- 
chinery had  been  ruined  or  taken  from  the  local  factories 
and  mines  long  before.  No  wonder  the  British  Tommies 
looked  good  to  the  town's  daughters  and  mothers  when 
they  marched  into  the  smoke  and  got  to  work  with  then- 
water  buckets ! 

Also  no  wonder  the  invaders  found  it  a  town  worth 
holding  up  to  the  last  possible  moment.  The  railway 
station  is,  or  was,  a  huge  affair.  The  time-table's  map 
shows  why:  lines  go  southwest  to  Arras,  Amiens,  and 
Paris;  northwest  to  Lens,  Bethune,  Hazebrouck,  Calais, 
and  Dunkirk,  the  third  largest  port  of  France;  north  to 
Lille,  the  capital  of  the  industrial  north,  and  on  to  Bel- 
gium; east  to  Valenciennes,  Mons,  and  Germany,  etc., 
etc.  A  great  force  of  workers  is  relaying  the  rails  while 
masons  and  others  are  repairing  the  station's  walls  and 
platforms.  The  numerous  great  engines  of  American 
make  have  been  bought  by  the  government  since  the 
war,  and  undoubtedly  help  greatly  to  make  up  for  the 
wide-spread  shortage  of  rolling-stock  and  motive  power. 
The  deep-voiced  whistles  of  these  dignified  iron  giants 
from  abroad  compare  so  favorably  with  the  shrill  ear- 
splittings  of  the  smaller  native  variety  of  engines  that 
they  are  said  to  be  in  great  demand.  Report  has  it  that 
our  doughboys  used  to  get  sore  at  the  "Frenchies,"  when 
their  own  whistles  were  surreptitiously  transplanted  so 


18    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

that  some  little  French  engine  could  use  a  large  part  of 
its  steam  in  manifesting  its  newly  acquired  dignity — 
making  the  American  engineer  want  to  hide  for  shame 
every  time  his  own  big  fellow  let  out  a  pitifully  tiny  toot. 

The  first  impression  at  the  station  is  that  the  district 
is  hard  on  the  job  of  putting  things  to  rights  again,  with 
plenty  of  traffic  and  much  freight  moving,  mainly  coal 
and  building  materials.  After  that  comes  the  feeling 
that  it  requires  a  great  assortment  of  ordinary  workers 
and  of  officials  in  caps  of  various  degrees  of  importance 
to  keep  the  freight  and  passengers  going.  The  state- 
operated  railway  from  Havre  to  Paris  is  said  to  cost  fully 
a  fourth  more  than  the  others.  "We  haven't  got  the 
key  with  us,"  one  of  its  brakemen  answered  when  asked 
to  open  the  wash-room  on  our  way  down  the  day  of  our 
arrival.  At  Rouen  an  official  came  and  with  the  help 
of  a  mechanic  succeeded  in  getting  it  open.  In  this  dis- 
trict the  government  is  said  to  have  come  into  such  close 
relations  with  all  the  railways  of  the  country  that  the 
railway-man's  job  is  now  practically  on  the  basis  of  civil 
service. 

Illogically  enough,  the  third  impression  of  the  district 
as  a  place  to  live  comes  in  the  form  of  a  wish  for  water, 
drinkable  water,  if  possible,  but  in  any  event,  water — 
more  water!  The  lack  of  drinking  water  doesn't  bother 
any  of  the  local  population:  any  outsider  doubtless 
becomes  accustomed  to  this  in  due  time.  But  the  lack 
of  the  water  of  ordinary  sanitation  is  more  serious.  The 
houses,  hotels,  and  estaminets  appear  to  be  built  around 
a  glass-covered  court  in  which  stairs  lead  up  to  the  other 
floors  directly  past  a  toilet  practically  without  water 


THE  PICTURE-PUZZLE  OF  EUROPE  19 

and  furnishing  for  the  washing  of  hands  and  face  a  tiny 
receptacle  holding  only  a  quart  or  two  of  the  evidently 
precious  H2O. 

Here  at  the  very  modest  tavern  last  night,  the  stairs 
and  also  the  sheets  were  quite  clean,  hi  fact  I  envied 
them  their  evident  "pull  "  with  somebody  for  connecting 
up  with  a  larger  supply  of  soap  and  water  than  I  have 
yet  seen  in  these  parts.  Perhaps  the  reason  is  that  the 
" elbow-grease"  of  the  one-eyed  and  very  hard-working 
maid  is  less  expensive  or  troublesome  than  ordinary  water. 
The  tiny  room,  with  its  only  window  in  the  roof  and  its 
dirty  floor,  required  a  good  deal  of  faith,  but  so  far  as 
could  be  determined  this  morning,  justified  it.  At  any 
rate,  the  dinner  last  night  showed  that  somebody  around 
the  place  knows  how  to  cook. 

Must  move  out  hi  a  few  minutes.  Here's  hoping 
nothing  worse  awaits  me  at  the  next  station  down  the 
line,  the  "Estaminet  Tout  Va  Bien." 


CHAPTER  II 
WITH  THE  STEELMEN  OF  DEVASTATED  FRANCE 

Saturday,  July  23. 

Thanks  be  for  a  job,  anyway!  Can't  imagine  any- 
thing worse  than  to  have  no  job  and  still  to  have  to  live 
at  "Estaminet  Tout  Va  Bien"  I 

At  the  factory  the  half  day's  work  went  very  well. 
"M'sieu'  Toam  "  makes  a  first-class  boss,  anxious  to 
help  a  fellow  to  like  his  work.  Thanks  to  his  numerous 
warnings,  my  hands  got  a  minimum  of  cuts  on  the  razor- 
sharp  edges  left  on  the  steel  beams  after  they  have  been 
cut  into  proper  lengths  by  the  great  friction  saw  our  gang 
operates.  My  job  is  to  use  a  chisel  and  a  hammer  for 
cutting  away  these  sharp  edges  so  that  the  long  beams 
can  be  neatly  joined  together  at  the  sawed  edges  when 
they  are  later  riveted  into  the  structural  work  for  sup- 
porting the  roofs  of  buildings  now  going  up  in  other  parts 
of  the  factory  yard.  If  chisel  or  hand  slips,  a  nasty  cut 
is  the  sure  result.  When  the  saw  does  its  work,  a  stream 
of  water  keeps  it  cool  but  does  not  prevent  a  great  shower 
of  sparks  and  a  fearful  bombardment  of  deafening  noise. 
Altogether  the  chiselling,  the  lifting,  and  the  assault  of 
noise,  make  it  a  real  job,  even  though  Tom  doesn't  try 
to  overwork  either  himself  or  my  French  "  buddy/'  and 
myself  under  him.  As  I  get  it  from  his  extremely  ob- 
scure French  and  his  sufficiently  difficult  Cockney,  the 
plant  when  completed  will  employ  10,000  men,  and  so 
be  one  of  the  biggest  establishments  in  France. 

20 


WITH  THE  STEELMEN  OF  FRANCE          21 

All  the  workers  appear  to  keep  going  very  well  in  spite 
of  a  good  deal  of  eating  and  smoking.  About  two  hours 
after  the  start,  everybody  takes  a  good  look  'round  for 
any  high  officials  and  then,  with  the  coast  clear,  goes  to 
his  locker  for  an  assortment  of  bread  and  cheese  or  pickles, 
washed  down  with  beer  or  wine.  Cigarettes  follow — and 
more  or  less  continue  throughout  the  rest  of  the  day. 
Most  of  those  I  can  see  run  machines  which  require  fairly 
accurate  work.  Many  of  these  last,  by  the  way,  includ- 
ing the  great  saw,  give  me  a  friendly  look — bearing  as 
they  do  the  name-plates  of  various  makers  in  America. 

Altogether  the  place  gives  the  impression  of  a  brand- 
new  and  well-managed  establishment  in  which  it  will  be 
a  pleasure  to  spend  a  week  or  two.  The  last  hour  of  the 
Saturday  half  day  spent  in  cleaning  up  the  machine  and 
putting  our  working  location  in  good  shape — with  the 
company  supplying  strong  but  agreeable  soap  for  dirty 
hands — is  a  positive  delight. 

If  only  the  same  could  be  said  for  the  "  All  Goes  Well"  ! 
It's  hard  to  know  where  to  begin!  These  certainly  are 
the  worst  living  conditions  I've  ever  seen — unless  the 
"fo'c'stle"  of  the  cattle  boat  of  college  days  be  excepted. 
Perhaps  it's  because  I'm  so  close  up  to  it  at  this  moment. 
At  any  rate,  it  all  seems  like  an  outrageous  combination 
of  multitudinous  noisy  and  hungry  flies,  dirty  beds,  stink- 
ing garbage,  squalling  babies,  promiscuous  and  untrained 
puppies  and  cats,  amazingly  contiguous  filthy  toilets, 
littered  kitchen  tables,  slatternly,  half-dressed  women, 
tasteless  food,  etc.,  etc. — ad  nauseum ! 

I've  certainly  found  the  common  laborer — tracked  him 
to  his  habitat — there's  no  doubt  about  that.  And  that's 


22    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

what  I'm  here  for.  But  it's  stretching  it  somewhat  to 
say  that  finding  him  brings  any  great  comfort  and  hap- 
piness. 

Supper  last  night  couldn't  have  come  closer  to  my 
hopes,  hi  one  way,  yet  it  certainly  furnished  a  trial  for 
any  white-collared  nerves.    The  first  at  table  was  a  big 
fellow  with  his  heavy  corduroys  held  up  by  a  wide  red 
belt.    His  heavy  mustache  would  do  credit  to  any  Bol- 
shevist that  breathes.    Presumably  his  hair  is  also  red, 
but  it's  hard  to  be  certain  as  to  that,  for  he  never  takes 
his  hat  off  at  table !    He  works  over  at  the  station — "on 
the  rails."    Next  came  a  little  laborer,  his  small-featured 
face  unshaven  for  several  days.    His  short,  faded  army 
trousers  went  down  to  his  old  gray-blue  puttees.    With 
his  long  hair  hanging  over  his  right  eye,  he  looks  and 
talks  in  a  furtive  and  guttural  fashion  that  somehow 
suggests   a   quick   and   active — and   subterranean — rat. 
Next  him  sits  a  hod-carrier — yes,  a  handsome  hod-car- 
rier.    He  wears  great  wooden   sabots.     His   mustache 
and  clean  shave  indicate  fair  contentment  with  life.    He 
laughs  often.    When  he  does,  he  strikes  his  leg  with  either 
hand  that  may  be  free  of  fork  or  knife;  whereupon  a 
great  cloud  of  dust  arises — so  full  of  lime  that  we  all 
cough.    The  tall  musketeer  of  a  fellow  on  my  right,  with 
magnificent  red  mustaches,  is  a  mason  from  Dunkirk, 
where  work  is  scarce.    Immediately  on  my  left  is  a  thick- 
set, black-haired,  heavy-mustached  laborer  with  one  eye 
— as  good  a  make-up  for  the  heavy  villain's  part  as  one 
could  wish  to  find  in  a  month's  search.    In  between — 
the  greasy,  bread-strewn,  beer-dripping,  fly-covered  table 
and  the  bad  smells. 


WITH  THE  STEELMEN  OF  FRANCE          23 

The  way  the  crowd  can  fill  up  their  plates  out  of  the 
huge  bowl  of  boiled  potatoes,  for  instance,  is  marvellous 
to  see.  Such  appetites  as  those  unshaven  faces  and  huge 
mustaches  appear  to  represent !  The  meat  is  too  precious 
to  be  put  up  to  our  self-control;  it  is  served  by  the  land- 
lord's wife  as  she  passes  back  and  forth  from  the  kitchen. 
At  the  proper  time,  when  you  have  finished  with  your  soup 
and  have  filled  your  soup-plate  with  potatoes,  she  appears 
with  the  precious  meat  and  her  fork.  At  least  we  can 
agree  that  she  plays  no  favorites.  Suzanne,  the  little 
daughter  of  nine,  appears  to  be  the  drudge.  She  keeps 
jumping  up  continually  to  fetch  the  bread  or  butter  from 
the  passageway  or  to  serve  the  ubiquitous  beer.  But 
she  gets  nothing  but  the  most  terrifying  of  scoldings  and 
shakings  for  it  all  from  a  father  who  gives  the  rest  of  his 
time  to  ordering  the  hard-worked,  young  and  once-pretty 
wife  about  or  to  entertaining  his  thirteen-months-old 
baby — except  when  he  is  trying  to  feed  it  such  things  as 
hard-boiled  eggs!  When  he  passes  from  this  to  yelling 
at  Suzanne  and  banging  the  table  while  she  whimpers, 
the  mother  shouts  and  a  glass,  or  two,  breaks — well,  I'll 
confess  the  whole  combination  makes  me  think  about 
the  Statue  of  Liberty  and  the  sky-line  of  New  York  Har- 
bor. 

All  this  was,  of  course,  calculated  to  prepare  the  new 
guest  for  the  worst  in  the  way  of  a  room.  The  result 
was  hardly  disappointing,  though  plenty  of  air  came  from 
two  windows  in  the  roof.  The  bed's  wires  are  so  antique 
that  it  made  a  dreadful  racket  every  time  I  turned — as 
I  did  often  at  the  start,  with  the  thought  of  the  probabili- 
ties in  store.  Finally,  I  made  up  my  mind  that  my  sensa- 


24    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

tions  of  various  moving  things  were  the  work  of  imagina- 
tion, and  so  resolved  to  turn  once  more  and  then  go  to 
sleep  without  further  testings — except  just  once  more. 
Alas  and  alack! — my  fingers  encountered  on  my  shoul- 
der something  that  made,  under  pressure,  a  long,  soft, 
smeary  squash!  Having  learned  the  worst,  and  hoping 
for  the  best,  I  went  to  sleep,  thanking  whichever  of  my 
stars  had  made  me  a  first-class  hoper. 

This  morning  it  was  a  matter  of  arranging  a  few  very 
bloody  murders,  and  then  trying  to  dress  carefully  in 
the  new  overalls.  So  it  was  a  hard  blow  when  Tom 
greeted  me  with  a  kindly  word  and  then  flicked  some- 
thing from  my  lapel  with  his: 

"You  got  bugs  there  at  the  ' Tout  Va  Bien?  ain't  you? 
Blime,  that's  nothin' — they're  all  over  the  bloody  place 
Jereabouts,"  he  was  considerate  enough  to  add. 

Still  I'm  for  suggesting  to  the  editors  of  the  next  book 
on  etiquette  something  like:  "It  is  considered  polite  to 
mention  the  weather  or  other  similarly  innocuous  topic 
when  brushing  indecent  insects  from  the  lapel  of  a  friend." 

Well,  I  can  stand  it  for  a  week,  and,  for  the  matter  of 
that,  still  other  weeks  if  necessary.  Tom,  however,  hands 
out  another  jolt  when  he  opines  that  in  his  experience 
the  workers  here  live  better  and  are  much  cleaner,  more 
self-respecting,  than  the  miners  and  others  of  the  older 
St.  Etienne  region.  That's  hard  luck. 

According  to  the  paper,  many  people  besides  myself 
are  unhappy.  The  day's  doings  for  the  city,  appearing 
in  the  regional  paper  published  up  at  Lille,  give  quite 
a  list : 

"One  Boitelle,  otherwise  judged  prudent  and  faultless, 


WITH  THE  STEELMEN  OF  FRANCE  25 

has  stolen  a  bicycle.  Condemned  to  prison  for  six 
months. " 

"At  a  near  by  station  in  Pont-de-la  Deule,  two  miners 
stole  a  case  which  they  thought  contained  vertributh,  but 
which  was  only  shoe-blacking.  Given  six  months  and 
forty  days  respectively." 

"Louis  Jacquemart,  without  money  or  work,  presented 
himself  at  the  estaminet  of  M.  Donnay.  Saying  that  he 
was  a  new  employee  at  the  Mayor's  office,  he  ordered  a 
copious  meal.  When  it  came  tune  to  pay  he  turned  his 
pockets  inside  out — nothing  but  a  piece  of  tobacco  and 
two  pants  buttons !  For  his  joke  he  was  imprisoned  three 
days." 

Nearly  every  day  there  is  an  item  or  two  about  the 
miners,  the  carpenters,  or  the  textile  workers  up  at  Rou- 
baix-Turcoing,  beyond  Lille,  and  their  conferences  with 
the  managers  or  "patrons"  about  the  question  of  reduc- 
tions in  wages  or  in  the  cost  of  living — "dearness  of 
the  life,"  it's  called  here.  Verily,  two  difficult  subjects 
the  world  over ! 

Having  duly  washed  my  well-cut  hands  with  the  com- 
pany's soap,  with  the  aid  of  dirt  as  instructed  by  Tom, 
changed  my  clothes  and  eaten  a  second  dinner  with  my 
new  comrades,  it  would  seem  helpful  to  keeping  the  steady 
keel  undoubtedly  demanded  for  the  week  just  ahead  if 
one  were  to  make  a  petite  promenade. 

Sunday  evening. 

If  only  there  were  some  way  to  reproduce  all  the 
sounds  that  come  to  me  here  in  my  attic  from  the  courts 
and  windows  of  this  crowded  corner  where  the  working 


26    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

population  is  taking  its  Sunday  afternoon  loaf,  and,  in 
the  highest  temperature  France  has  known  in  years, 
taking  it  hot! 

Except  when  the  babies  cry  or  the  dogs  get  excited, 
the  cornetist  and  the  "  accordionist/ '  just  opposite,  are 
the  prize  winners,  especially  when  they  are  accompanied 
by  the  drummer.  Occasionally,  however,  a  fearful  auto- 
matic piano  in  an  estaminet  filled  with  foreign  laborers, 
puts  even  them  in  the  shade.  The  band  at  the  garrison, 
luckily  or  unluckily,  is  a  little  too  far  away  to  interfere 
with  them.  Most  of  the  conversation — especially  the 
joking — is  carried  on  hi  high  voice,  as  though  meant  to 
be  shared  with  everybody  in  the  quarter.  Unfortunately, 
the  same  holds  for  the  frequent  and  furious  scoldings 
usually  addressed  to  the  children.  The  strange  thing  is 
that  no  one  seems  to  have  a  talking-machine.  The  sing- 
ing, however,  is  continuous — so  much  so  as  to  suggest 
a  self-starter  in  the  way  of  alcohol — and  almost  every 
place  near  by  has  the  bar  of  an  estaminet  down-stairs. 
Evidently  most  others  do  as  does  mine  host — work  by 
day  and  then,  by  night,  help  the  wife  serve  meals  or 
drinks.  A  man's  ears  tell  him  that  the  population  is 
pretty  tightly  packed  together,  but,  for  the  day,  at  least, 
not  particularly  unhappy  about  it  and  extremely  relaxed 
and  leisurely. 

A  large  part  of  the  town  was  on  hand  to  see  a  very 
agreeable  gymnastic  exhibition  staged  in  a  near-by  square 
with  the  help  of  a  band  early  in  the  afternoon.  It  seems 
that  every  French  city  has  these  groups  of  athletic  boys 
and  girls — with  then*  wands,  parallel  bars,  etc.  With 
the  help  of  a  few  contributions  from  leading  citizens, 


WITH  THE  STEELMEN  OF  FRANCE  27 

they  exhibit  their  training  in  other  towns  much  as  our 
baseball  and  football  teams. 

This  morning  offered  quite  an  impressive  ceremony  in 
connection  with  the  interment  of  the  unknown  allied 
soldier.  Without  music,  the  straggling  line  would  hardly 
have  been  very  impressive  with  its  handful  of  soldiers, 
more  widows  and  still  more  orphans,  a  flag-covered  wagon 
and  a  general  and  a  bishop  or  two.  But  with  the  help 
of  the  slow  beats  and  heavy  chords  of  a  funeral  march, 
the  irregular  steps  of  the  various  motley  groups  were 
somehow  tied  together  into  something  calculated  to  give 
every  onlooker  some  very  serious  thoughts  about  the 
high  cost  of  warring — especially  when,  as  we  stood  with 
bowed  heads,  the  coffin  passed  by  the  gaping  fronts  of 
homes  bombed  during  the  operations,  or,  later,  came 
into  the  ruined  town  square. 

While  the  procession  was  forming  there  was  an  ex- 
traordinary amount  of  hat-tipping,  hand-shaking,  and 
cheek-kissing  by  the  various  dignitaries — military,  re- 
ligious, civil,  and  commercial.  An  onlooker  couldn't  help 
wondering  what  the  general  or  the  bishop,  for  instance, 
would  do  if,  by  some  strange  chance,  his  position  were 
for  the  future  to  be  cut  off  from  the  kowtowing  now 
inseparable  from  it.  A  big  increase  in  the  pay-envelope 
or  other  emoluments  would  pretty  surely  have  to  follow 
in  order  to  make  up  for  the  discrepancy.  Not  that  these 
men  are  especially  different  from  the  rest  of  us.  Life  is 
pretty  much  made  up  of  bowers  and  bowees — with  prac- 
tically every  one  of  us  performing,  at  all  times,  in  not 
one  but  both  roles.  Thus  everybody  here  bows  to  the 
bishop.  Fine !  Who  wouldn't  be  a  bishop !  But  when 


28    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 


\\ 


he  goes  to  Paris  or  Rome  he  bows  to  the  archbishops  and 
the  cardinals — reflecting,  meanwhile,  how  nice  it  would  be 
to  be  bowed  to  by  other  bishops !  So  Tom  at  the  plant 
likes  the  way  the  French  boy  and  I  kowtow  to  him  as 
the  boss  of  our  great,  screaming  saw.  Meanwhile,  he 
bows  to  the  Contre-maitre,  or  department  "super,"  and 
nurses  his  hopes  some  day  to  be  bowed  to  by  those  who 
are  bosses  of  saws!  We  all  certainly  do  like  the  bows 
that  go  with  this  or  that  position.  It  wouldn't  be  so  far 
wrong  to  hazard  that  they  get  more  action  out  of  us 
bowees  than  does  the  money  paid  us.  It  is  these  bows 
that  sing  to  us  in  the  streets  and  the  public  places  the 
paean  of  our  personal  achievement  to  date.  The  same 
song  is  sung  to  us  by  our  white  collars  or  even  our  canes. 
It's  not  a  bad  song,  either,  for  it  helps  us  to  what  is  one 
of  the  most  difficult  things  in  the  world — to  believe  in 
ourselves.  More  harm  is  probably  done,  on  the  whole, 
by  underbelief  in  ourselves  than  by  overbelief.  They 
are  comparatively  small  in  number  who  need  preach- 
ments against  pride.  Of  these  few  we  are  afraid  because 
if  they  do  not  care  for  the  opinion  of  the  rest  of  us,  how 
can  we  prevent  their  doing  what  is  harmful  to  us?  This 
fear  it  is  that  makes  us  forget  that  the  vast  majority 
of  us  spend  entirely  too  much  time  screwing  up  our 
courage  to  the  point  of  taking  ourselves  seriously,  and 
hugging  to  our  soul's  hungry  heart  the  gratifying  as- 
surance of  every  bow  we  can  manage  or  contrive  to  get 
hold  of! 

The  slenderness  of  the  dividing  line  between  the  satis- 
factions of  matters  physical  and  tangible,  such  as  food 
or  money,  and  of  matters  mental  or  spiritual,  such  as 


WITH  THE  STEELMEN  OF  FRANCE  29 

bows,  impresses  me  more  than  ever  now  that  every  night 
I  get  into  that  creaking  cot  of  mine.  After  a  few  mo- 
ments the  definite  testimony  of  my  sense  of  feeling  as  to 
things  crawling  about  upon  shoulder  or  knee  becomes 
entirely  untrustworthy.  The  reason  is  that  my  mind  gets 
into  the  matter  too  thoroughly — so  thoroughly  that  I 
can't  tell  at  all  whether  the  real  movement  is  on  my  body 
or  at  the  other  end  of  the  line,  hi  my  brain.  Finally  I 
give  up,  turn  over,  and  fall  asleep  from  sheer  disgust  at 
such  an  unreliable  information  service  as  my  nerves 
appear  to  furnish.  In  the  same  way,  after  a  mosquito 
or  two  has  sung  its  song  into  my  ear,  my  ear's  soul,  as 
it  were — its  mental  or  spiritual  double — gets  into  the 
game  of  mosquito-listening  so  completely — or  so  acutely 
—that  its  testimony  as  to  mosquito  song  and  mosquito 
silence  becomes  so  hair-splitting  as  to  be  entirely  worth- 
less. The  resultant  lack  of  faith  in  one's  own  senses 
produces,  for  some  reason,  a  most  depressing  feeling  of 
both  bodily  helplessness  and  spiritual  insignificance:  the 
ordinary  tools  for  connecting  with  the  outside,  tangible 
world  have  shown  themselves  no  good,  and  in  all  the 
width  of  the  universe,  tangible  or  intangible,  there  are 
no  others! 

Perhaps  it  is  this  wish — this  universal  wish — to  get 
away  from  the  thoroughly  demoralizing  uncertainty 
which  thus  goes  with  all  narrow  margins,  that  makes  us 
all  tend  to  go  too  far  the  moment  we  can  put  our  physical 
or  spiritual  feet  down  upon  the  terra  firma  of  definite, 
wide-margined  certainties  and  assurances.  So  we  build 
a  house  much  bigger  than  we  need — or  eat  more  or  drink 
more  than  is  at  all  necessary — just  to  get  the  enjoyable 


30    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

relief  that  comes  with  the  sense  of  definite,  unquestion- 
able undoubtedness. 

There  has  been  time  to  ponder  on  all  this,  unfor- 
tunately, in  the  darkness  in  between  the  mosquitoes  and 
other  things.  For  the  nights  have  brought  something 
new — a  narrow  sheet  and  a  narrow  blanket.  Every  time 
I  get  under  them  I  have  to  spend  some  time  trying  to 
" rationalize"  myself,  as  the  psycho-analysts  would  say, 
to  tell  myself  the  cover  is  enough  to  cover  me — just,  that 
more  than  enough  is  too  much  and  that  a  narrow  sheet 
should  not  bother  a  college  graduate,  even  though  people 
for  years  have  squandered  money  on  wide,  and  unneces- 
sary, edges.  But  later  when  the  cold  wakes  me  up  to 
find  the  covers  on  the  floor,  I  realize  that  a  famous  Phila- 
delphia merchant  has  learned  more  about  sheets  and 
such  things  than  I. 

"The  part  of  a  sheet  or  blanket  that  keeps  you  warm," 
according  to  this  expert,  "is  the  part  that  hangs  over!" 

Perhaps  my  thirty-inch  sheet  is  scientifically  enough — 
if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  "scientifically  enough,"  in  such 
matters.  But  one  thing  is  sure:  it  isn't  enough  to  make 
me  feel  sure  that  it  is  enough. 

Just  that  difference  of  margin — of  the  part  that  hangs 
over — appears  to  me  more  and  more  at  the  bottom  of 
the  difference  between,  say,  the  unskilled  laborers  and  us 
white-collared  chaps.  Statistics  can  perhaps  demonstrate 
mathematically  that  everybody  has  an  economic  sheet 
wide  enough  to  cover  him.  True  enough,  perhaps,  on 
the  average  and  under  normal  circumstances.  The 
trouble  is  that  nobody  lives  "on  the  average,"  least  of 
all  the  people  who  have  the  narrowest  sheet.  Sometimes 


WITH  THE  STEELMEN  OF  FRANCE  31 

we  figure  that  we  could  live  the  life  that  goes  with  the 
job  of  the  "narrow-sheeters,"  and  manage  to  get  along 
a  lot  better  than  they  appear  to.  The  trouble  is  that  we 
are  unconsciously  figuring  on  carrying  with  us  into  that 
job — and  the  life  which  is  pretty  inexorably  determined 
by  it — our  own  education  and  foresight.  But  it  is  ex- 
actly the  lack  of  these  that  makes  him  a  common  laborer; 
that  lack  is,  automatically,  a  part  of  his  whole  situation. 
That  being  so,  he,  of  course,  does  fail  to  avoid  illness  as 
well  as  we  would  in  his  situation,  and  to  protect  himself 
against  the  accidents  of  both  factory  and  fate  as  well  as 
we  would.  But  if  he  could  do  as  well  as  we — well,  then  he 
wouldn't  have  the  common  laborer's  job  that  requires  the 
living  of  a  common  laborer's  life.  The  important  thing 
is  for  us  to  see  that  it  is  footless  for  us  to  figure  how  prop- 
erly to  deal  with  either  his  body  or  his  soul  apart  from 
the  narrowness  of  his  sheet,  for  this  at  every  hour  of  the 
day  or  night  is  compelling,  at  this  point  and  at  that,  some 
little  readjustment  of  both. 

In  the  same  way,  I  have  been  deciding,  throughout  the 
length  of  some  of  my  cold  darknesses,  that  I  could  sleep 
fairly  well  under  this  sheet  if  somehow  I  could  contrive 
a  means  of  lying  still.  The  trouble  is  that  the  narrow 
sheet  is  tied  in  to  the  very  nature  of  the  whole  situation 
which  grabs  me  the  moment  I  accept  the  necessity  of 
accommodating  my  life  to  a  total  earning  power  of  less 
than  twenty  francs  a  day.  That  same  situation  which 
furnishes  the  narrow  sheet  as  a  part  of  the  landlord's 
poverty,  also  furnishes — automatically — the  other  things 
— the  other  little,  but  lively  things — which  make  it  quite 
impossible  to  lie  still! 


32    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

Yes,  these  nights  put  me  in  a  mood  to  believe  that  it's 
the  part  that  hangs  over  that  counts — it  is  not  wasteful, 
it  is  necessary.  The  existence  or  lack  of  it  hi  the  field  of 
things  spiritual  and  mental,  as  well  as  physical  and  eco- 
nomic, is  driving  us  every  hour  and  every  week  of  our 
lives  to  fit  ourselves  to  our  sheet — either  to  lie  carefully 
or  to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  easy  movement.  Nevertheless, 
most  of  us  continue  to  make  the  mistake  of  thinking  that 
the  hobo,  for  instance,  is  different  from  us,  not  because 
of  these  margins — these  differences  of  degree  that  come 
to  cause  differences  of  kind — but  because  of  some  differ- 
ence down  at  the  bottom  of  his  hobo  soul. 

Here  hi  Douai  the  sheets  must  be  fairly  narrow  for  a 
lot  of  people.  Pretty  much  the  whole  population  appears 
to  be  hard  workers,  with  only  occasionally  a  person  of 
the  careful  or  chic  appearance  of  the  Paris  boulevards, 
and  I  recall  that  the  Paris  boulevards  are  found  in  the 
working  quarters,  too.  To  be  sure,  this  part  of  the  world 
here  hi  North  France  has  led  a  mighty  hard  life  for  most 
of  the  months  since  October,  1914.  But  it  is  easy  to  be- 
lieve that  for  some  reason  or  other  the  pressure  of  exist- 
ence is  heavy — much  heavier — here  than  at  Paris.  This 
impression  is  sure  to  be  gained  from  every  crowd.  It 
is  supported  by  the  ordinary  conversation  at  the  table 
down-stairs.  Naturally,  the  high  cost  of  living  is  felt  to 
be  the  immediate  enemy — with  the  Great  War  as  the 
cause  behind  it.  Then  behind  the  war  and  causing  it, 
is  seen,  by  several  of  my  new  friends,  the  arch- villain  of 
the  play — the  capitalist. 

" Capitalism  is  international,  not  national/'  so  runs 
the  conversation  often.  "It  goes  wherever  it  is  led  by 


WITH  THE  STEELMEN  OF  FRANCE  33 

its  lust  for  profits."  (Note  the  high  voice  of  our  mason 
as  he  rubs  thumb  and  finger  together  in  the  universal 
token  of  money.)  "That  takes  it  into  any  and  every 
country  of  the  world.  Enemy  or  friend — that  means 
nothing  to  'M'sieu'  Money-Bags.'  So  labor  should  be 
similarly  international.  If  capital  knows  no  country, 
why  should  lla  classe  ouvriere"!  Here's  our  country,  I 
tell  you,  here" — tapping  his  plate  of  meat  and  potatoes — 
"here — wherever  we  get  our  jobs." 

From  such  words  it  is  easy  to  pass  to  the  morning 
paper's  news  of  the  big  business  man  or  the  politician, 
who  has  been  arrested  for  stealing  millions  of  francs  in 
connection  with  the  "reconstitution  "  projects  at  Lens 
or  elsewhere  in  the  near-by  devastated  regions.  Where- 
upon the  one-eyed  day-laborer  agrees  with  the  mason  as 
he  shakes  his  head  in  his  personal  belief  that  Jouhaux, 
the  head  of  the  French  Federation  of  Labor,  has  been 
bought  by  the  government  and  that  he  never  was  a  real 
laborer  anyhow.  According  to  the  mason,  all  present 
confusion  in  the  ranks  of  labor — one  item  shows  a  big 
miners'  conference  voting  113  for  and  113  against  stand- 
ing with  the  Moscow  Bolshevists ! — has  thus  been  brought 
about  by  the  politicians. 

"A  big  trouble,  too,  my  friends,"  says  the  red-mus- 
tached  railway  laborer,  "it  is  that  there  is  too  much  dif- 
ference between  us  manual  laborers  and  skilled  workers. 
Picture  yourself!  Some  skilled  workers  who  sweat  less 
than  we  do  draw  as  much  as  four  and  five  francs  the  hour ! 
I  ask  you,  is  it  not  so?  Yes,  and  meanwhile,  we  do  well 
to  get  from  a  franc  and  a  half  to  two  francs,  or  maybe 
two  and  a  quarter.  More  than  double!  For  why?  .  .  . 


34    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

But  then,  it's  that  way  in  the  army,  too.  Why,  I  know 
a  man — he  had  no  ' protection '  (pull),  you  know?  Well, 
for  twenty  years — yes,  it's  quite  true — he  has  never 
moved  from  being  a  sergeant,  while  others  of  his  friends 
pass  him  continually!  I  tell  you,  ten  minutes  of  l pro- 
tection' is  worth  more  than  ten  years  of  service  anywhere 
— in  the  army  or  on  the  job." 

"But  it  was  the  French  soldier  boys  at  Verdun,"  adds 
the  mason;  "it  was  they  who  knew  what  to  do  when 
they  ran  into  too  much  authority.  You  know,  one  day 
when  a  crowd  of  them  had  a  day  or  two  off,  they  wanted 
to  go  into  the  town  which  thousands  of  their  friends  had 
died  to  save.  And  some  gendarmes  told  them  they 
couldn't  enter.  Ha!  It  is  to  laugh!  What  did  they 
do?  Ha!  Nothing  except  hang  them  to  a  few  lamp- 
posts that  happened  to  be  overlooked  by  the  bombard- 
ment! 

"One  night,"  he  goes  on;  "we  had  to  get  into  the 
tombs  for  protection — the  dead  dead  and  the  living  dead, 
or  half -dead  living,  we  were  all  mixed  up  together !  Oh, 
my  God,  how  it  was  terrible !  Unspeakable !  .  .  .  And 
at  Fort  Douamont  we  were  entombed  for  four  whole 
days  and  nights.  When  they  finally  found  us,  the  hairs 
of  several  of  my  friends  were  white !" 

It  looks  as  though  this  pressure  of  the  "H.  C.  L.,"  aided 
by  war-weariness  and  war-disgust — this  vast  weary- 
disgust — were  causing  a  touchiness  with  regard  to  every- 
iking — except  the  Washington  Conference  for  limiting 
armament  and  the  League  of  Nations.  Though  the  men 
appear  to  have  no  huge  amount  of  interest  in  either  of 
these,  nevertheless,  they  feel  that  anything  at  all  which 


WITH  THE  STEELMEN  OF  FRANCE          35 

gives  a  slight  fraction  of  a  chance  for  avoiding  war  is 
worth  trying.  Perhaps  that  is  where  President  Wilson 
made  a  mistake.  He  found  this  part  of  the  world  deathly 
weary — deathly  sick — of  war — especially  France,  where 
the  forty  years  of  fear  of  war  were  finally  justified,  hor- 
ribly justified.  Then  he  forgot  that  the  passionate  in- 
tensity of  this  sickness  here  has  had  nothing  at  all  com- 
parable to  it  amongst  us  in  America,  sick  enough  of  war 
though  we  have  been.  It's  this  intensity,  too,  apparently, 
that  makes  the  "  Internationalists "  feel  as  they  do  about 
all  this  nest  of  neighbors  pushed  up  against  them  in  this 
crowded  continent. 

"What  good  did  we  get  out  of  fighting  the  Saxons,  for 
instance?"  demands  the  mason.  " Prussians,  yes,  they 
were  terrible — and  are — but  Saxons,  they  were  better,  is 
it  not  so?  Always  our  prisoners  would  say  to  us,  'Me 
Saxon — not  Prussian!  Prussians  bad  people,  yes!'  It 
was  to  laugh  to  see  them  with  their  hands  up !  Yet  for 
a  while  the  big  statesmen  had  to  work  hard  to  decide 
whether  Italy  was  our  friend.  Finally,  they  decided 
Italy  was  not  our  enemy.  If  they  hadn't  so  decided, 
then  we  should  have  had  to  shoot  the  Italians!  Shoot 
or  no  shoot? — like  that."  (Business  of  turning  hand 
palm  upward  then  downward.)  "And  in  any  case  we 
should  have  had  to  obey — or  be  shot  ourselves.  Ugh! 
It  is  all  terrible.  It  must  not  happen  again !  No — never 
in  life!" 

One  thing  is  sure — a  lot  of  these  things  look  amazingly 
plainer  when  you  sit  and  eat  under  these  dreadful  sur- 
roundings, with  the  table  a  smear  of  beer,  bread,  and 
flies,  with  the  cat  eating  its  meat  on  the  desk  at  the  same 


36    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

level  with  and  touching  the  table,  and  the  wriggling  puppy 
or  the  dirty  baby  in  the  landlord's  half-sleeved  arms,  and 
when  you  talk  with  these  men  who  were  prisoner-slaves 
here  during  the  occupation  or  were  at  Verdun,  or  who 
devoutly  thank  "the  good  God  that  He  gave  me  an  awful 
wound  that  took  me  back  into  the  hospital  and  then  to 
another  sector/' 

Yes,  it's  a  pretty  war-worn  world — also,  evidently, 
a  peace-puzzled  and  perplexed  one. 


CHAPTER  III 
"FRENCH  NIGHTS  IN  A  BARROOM" 

Monday,  July  25. 

WELL,  to-day  brings  one  discovery,  at  least.  That 
statement  that  the  Frenchman  never  drinks  to  excess 
is  not  true;  at  any  rate,  not  for  the  French  working  man 
and  his  week-end.  Between  Saturday  noon  and  Monday 
night  life  here  looks  like  just  one  little  drink  after  an- 
other. The  beer  is  very  light,  but  after  all —  Well,  here's 
how  it's  gone: 

Saturday  afternoon  mine  host  asked  me  to  go  with 
him  for  a  business  call  or  two.  Every  few  squares  we 
stepped  into  some  little  bar  for  a  "Bock,"  "un  shoppe," 
or  "du  vin  blanc,  s'il  vous  plait."  Luckily  I  was  allowed 
to  order  smaller  and  smaller  glasses.  Otherwise  I  might 
have  been  staggering,  too,  when  his  business  was  finally 
done. 

Sunday  evening  many  estaminets  were  a-roar  with 
singing,  and  many  drunken  men  were  on  the  streets. 
My  mason  friend  was  well  seas-over  and  anxious  to  show 
pictures  with  full  details  regarding  all  his  children — they 
number  seven !  This  morning  at  coffee  he  was  a  wreck. 
With  sickening  aches  in  head  and  stomach,  he  was  anxious 
to  figure  just  how  it  happened. 

Monday  is  apparently  taken  as  a  sort  of  tapering-off 
day.  First — as  usual — came  the  morning  cognac  in  our 
glasses  or  bowls  of  coffee  drunk  in  the  filthy  kitchen  where 

37 


38    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

the  boss  starts  the  fire  and  the  flies  make  a  tremendous 
hum  as  they  begin  the  day's  operations  on  the  kitchen 
table's  unwashed  plates,  the  uncovered  garbage  pail,  the 
dog's  unfinished  bones,  or  in  the  toilet  on  the  other  side 
of  the  half-height  partition.  Next  a  short  walk  to  the 
factory.  Within  a  few  minutes  after  starting  work,  a 
wink  from  a  friend  gets  me  over  among  the  machinists. 
Behold  another  bar!  With  plenteous  precautions,  a 
wreck  of  a  man  stops  his  machine  while  he  pours  us  out 
— at  fifty  centimes  each — our  glasses  of  gin.  With  ap- 
propriate thanks  I  return  to  my  hammer,  chisel,  and 
razor  edges  of  steel — to  note  a  bit  of  dizziness  a  few  min- 
utes later.  In  spite  of  extra  care  taken  in  realization  of 
the  danger,  it  is  nevertheless  to  be  noted  that  more  cuts 
happened  in  the  next  half-hour  than  in  all  the  rest  of  the 
day.  One  of  the  other  men  treated  by  our  friend  fell 
within  the  succeeding  half-hour,  and  had  to  go  to  the 
plant  nurse  with  a  badly  skinned  leg.  During  the  morn- 
ing many  of  the  workers  drank  beer  and  wine  out  of  their 
bottles  brought  hi  pockets  or  knapsacks. 

" Don't  you  like  my  brand?"  my  French  buddy  asked, 
almost  insulted  when  I  accepted  only  a  few  mouthfuls 
of  his  proffered  beer. 

At  noon  our  bibulous  friend  had  my  landlord  and  my- 
self in  to  a  bar  opposite  the  factory  gate  for  a  couple  of 
glasses  of  port  wine.  Later,  at  "home,"  of  course,  beer 
was  served  freely,  as  at  every  meal.  After  that — as  usual 
at  the  noon  dinner  which  is  permitted  by  the  hour  and  a 
half's  recess,  aided  by  the  bicycles — we  were  served  red 
wine.  Then  a  glass  of  hot  coffee.  After  that  the  usual 
small  glass  of  cognac  or  whiskey  had  to  be  refused.  On 


"FRENCH  NIGHTS  IN  A  BARROOM "         39 

the  way  to  the  plant  the  same  old  chum  asked  us  to  step 
in  to  the  bar  again !  Luckily,  we  were  too  close  to  the 
whistle,  and  a  minute  of  tardiness  costs  a  half-hour's 
pay.  During  the  afternoon  another  invitation  to  the 
secret  gin  bottles  had  to  be  refused.  At  four,  when  we 
got  our  sandwiches,  Tom  advised  me  to  be  sure  to  get 
a  bottle  and  bring  my  beer  hereafter.  "The  water's  un- 
safe 'ereabouts,"  and  he  told  the  details  to  prove  how  it 
had  been  fatal  to  a  fellow  worker.  Every  tune  the  near- 
by machinists  see  me  drinking  water  they  put  hand  to 
stomach  and  make  awful  faces,  as  though  expecting  my 
immediate  collapse.  When  the  whistle  blew  at  5.30, 
we  had  another  stop-in  for  beer.  At  supper-time — 7.30 
— our  friend  stopped  in  for  still  another  drink  with  our 
host,  and  unfortunately  showed  himself  pretty  muddled 
though  still  extremely  friendly.  At  supper,  of  course, 
we  had  nothing  to  drink  but  beer. 

"A  joke !  A  dream !"  one  of  the  laborers  snorted  when 
told  that  in  America  it  was  believed  that  Frenchmen 
seldom  got  drunk,  now  that  absinthe  had  been  pro- 
hibited. 

As  a  result  of  all  this,  unfortunately,  the  "Tout  Va 
Bien's"  keeper  also  showed  himself  very  well  loaded  at 
supper.  His  shoutings  and  scoldings  and  shakings  for 
poor  little  Suzanne  still  ring  in  my  ears — worse  than 
before,  and  that's  saying  a  lot,  a  dreadful  lot.  With  feet 
sore,  fingers  cut,  hands  greasy  in  spite  of  the  strongest 
of  soap,  back  tired  and  ears  half  numbed  by  nine  hours 
of  the  screams  of  our  saw — such  a  combination  makes  it 
most  pleasant  to  dream  of  going  home  and  speaking  plea- 
santly to  my  daughter  and  the  others  of  my  family  the 


40    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

rest  of  my  days.  It  would  be  good  to  know  whether  his 
scoldings  and  yellings  are  the  result  of  the  flies  and  the 
rest  of  this  situation,  or  just  the  day's  drinkings,  or  per- 
haps a  " protective  behavior"  intended  to  "save  his  face" 
when  he  feels  below  par.  Anyway,  it  makes,  by  all 
means,  the  hardest  thing  to  stand  in  the  whole  outfit 
here  at  the  house — much  harder  than  the  dirt  and  the 
bugs. 

Which  reminds  me — alas! — that  there's  just  tune  for 
a  stroll  before  getting  under  the  thirty  inches  of  sheet 
again.  ...  At  any  rate,  here's  hoping  that  the  little 
laborer  in  the  next  room  doesn't  talk  in  his  sleep  as  much 
as  he  did  last  night. 

Wednesday. 

Am  feeling  to-day  like  a  victim  of  the  high  cost  of  liv- 
ing— a  bit  revolutionary.  Find  that  my  pay  as  a  laborer 
is  only  a  mite  more  than  13  francs  a  day — for  a  working 
week  of  five  days  and  a  half.  Meanwhile,  board  and 
keep  cost  12  francs  a  day — for  an  eating  and  sleeping 
week  of  seven  days.  Other  workers  of  much  the  same 
sort  in  the  plant  get  an  additional  " benefice,"  or  h.  c.  1. 
bonus,  of  5  francs  a  day,  and  some  of  the  day-laborers 
on  the  railway,  for  instance,  get  a  total  of  over  20  francs. 
Some  also  get  small  additions  for  dependent  children  as 
the  result  of  a  union  of  employers  in  the  effort  to  increase 
the  birth-rate.  But  even  at  that,  board  and  room  at  10 
or  12  francs — say,  75  francs  the  week — make  a  pretty 
heavy  pull  on,  say,  120  francs  of  pay.  Back  hi  the  Amer- 
ican steel  towns  the  bed  and  board  were  not  over  ten 
dollars — or  well  under  half  a  laborer's  income.  No  won- 


"FRENCH  NIGHTS  IN  A  BARROOM"          41 

der  the  mason  who  is  seven  times  father  finds  the  going 
mighty  hard,  especially  when  Dunkirk  offers  no  work, 
and  the  contractors  give  no  family  "supplement"  for  the 
children. 

Apparently,  the  boarding-house  keepers  are  not  mak- 
ing a  fortune,  either.  The  drought  has  put  vegetables  of 
all  kinds  up  to  extremely  high  levels.  Meat  appears 
always  high,  and,  so  far  as  our  table  is  concerned  at  least, 
both  precious  and  tough.  The  cheese  and  pickles  for  my 
factory  lunch  appear  expensive,  even  for  one  who  can 
buy  francs  at  eight  cents  apiece.  Red  and  white  wine 
are  also  high — too  high  to  be  anything  like  as  common 
as  pre-war.  A  good  pair  of  half-soles  comes  high  at  16 
francs — three-quarters  of  a  day's  work !  A  new  pair  of 
good  shoes  requires  serious  thought  at  60  francs — as  also 
a  suit  of  made-to-order  clothes  at  300  to  400  francs. 

All  this  makes  one  wonder  all  the  more  at  the  surpris- 
ing neatness  of  person  and  the  general  intelligence  of 
face  of  the  better  class  of  mechanics  comprising  most  of 
the  workers  over  at  the  "usine"  or  plant.  On  Monday 
every  pair  of  overalls  hi  the  place  appeared  freshly  washed 
— evidently  that  represents  an  important  part  of  the 
wife's  duties.  Altogether,  the  assorted  and  assembled 
patches  of  various  vintages  showed  more  shades  of  blue 
than  Joseph's  coat.  Even  on  the  hot  afternoons,  too, 
the  strict  etiquette  of  neatness  apparently  forbade  the 
loosening  of  the  double-breasted,  semi-military  jackets. 
The  heat  made  me  risk  shocking  them  by  working  in  my 
khaki  shirt,  coatless.  Most  of  the  better-trained  hands 
are  getting  about  30  francs  a  day.  The  54-hour  schedule 
breaks  the  national  8-hour  law  and  will  be  stopped  when 


42    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

things  here  in  the  devastated  regions  become  normal 
again.  Everybody  possible  is  on  piece-work,  but  a  rule 
forbids  their  making  a  sum  more  than  60  per  cent  above 
a  certain  guaranteed  minimum.  So  when  they  approach 
that  60  per  cent — and  they  use  up  a  lot  of  chalk  figuring 
it  all  out — they  begin  to  slow  down.  At  all  times  the 
crowd  keeps  a  sharp  lookout  for  the  higher  officials.  To- 
day we  were  well  ahead  of  our  schedule  at  five,  and  so 
started  to  use  up  a  good  half -hour  getting  ready  to  "take 
off,"  on  the  instant  of  the  whistle.  Suddenly  word  came 
down  the  line  by  a  combined  series  of  low  whistles,  winks, 
and  nods  that  the  director  was  approaching.  In  an 
instant,  Tom,  in  spite  of  his  street  clothes,  grabbed  his 
hammer  and  began  pounding  a  steel  beam  vigorously 
to  register  great  activity.  I  wonder  if  the  bosses  are 
as  easily  fooled  by  mere  activity  as  we  workers  get  to 
thinking. 

On  the  whole,  the  machinists  and  apprentices  near  us 
get  a  lot  of  work  done  and,  judging  by  their  use  of  pre- 
cision tools,  work  of  a  high  order,  too.  That  doesn't 
keep  some  of  them  from  playing  an  occasional  tune  with 
then-  hammers  while  others  thrum  at  a  long  file  held  "a 
la  banjo."  To-day  the  excessive  heat  caused  a  lot  of 
horse-play.  Two  apprentices  were  approached  stealthily 
from  behind — when  no  boss  was  near — and  full  buckets 
of  cold  water  left  upside  down  upon  their  heads  and  shoul- 
ders! 

"If  one  did  not  work  for  a  day  he  went  to  prison  for 
a  day.  A  loaf  of  bread  we  had — once  a  week.  Often — • 
yes,  many  tunes,  we  saw  our  friends  die  of  starvation, 
dropping  at  their  work."  So  the  young  Frenchman  with 


"FRENCH  NIGHTS  IN  A  BARROOM"'         43 

us,  in  between  times,  tells  us  of  his  days  when,  as  pris- 
oner, he  labored  in  the  coal-mines. 

The  jolly  little  humpbacked  machinist — an  artist  with 
his  file-banjo — was  a  street-car  motorman.  Both  are 
sure  that  much  of  the  food  sent  hi  for  them  by  the  Ameri- 
cans was  taken  by  their  captors.  Local  postals,  by  the 
way,  show  a  German  bakery  operated  by  the  soldiers 
here  in  the  plant  almost  exactly  where  we  work. 

It  is  easy  to  hear  hot  arguments  between  citizens  who 
had  different  ideas  about  proper  relations  with  the  con- 
querors. Some  that  knuckled  under  too  easily  are  find- 
ing life  unpleasant  now — men  as  well  as  women.  Last 
night  my  one-eyed  table  companion  had  it  hot  and  heavy 
with  a  dapper-looking  young  gentleman  who  had  feath- 
ered his  prison-nest  by  becoming  an  overquick*  and  over- 
willing  interpreter  for  the  invaders. 

"It  is  necessary  to  say  that  our  friend,  this  one-eyed 
man,  is  a  brave  fellow, "  the  landlord  explained  when 
asked  the  why  of  the  fuss.  "You  see,  when  the  boches 
came,  they  made  everybody  work.  Our  friend  said: 
'No,  I  do  not  wish  to  work,  thanks.'  They  put  three 
bayonets  against  his  throat — ugh,  like  that.  'No/  he 
said,  'no,  I  will  not  work/  Then  they  counted — eins, 
zwei,  drei — by  ten  he  must  decide,  you  understand? 
They  counted  ten.  He  looked  them  in  the  face  and  said: 
'No,  I  will  not  work  for  you  boches.7  And  they  did  not 
fire.  No  one  knows  for  why  not.  And  he  did  not  work. 
Always  sick,  or  pretending  he  was.  Yes,  it  is  to  be  said 
that  he  is  brave." 

Me,  I  take  off  my  hat  to  him — besides  asking  forgive- 
ness for  saying,  a  few  days  ago,  that  he  looks  like  a  prize 


44    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

villain.  Incidentally,  he  works  seventy  hours  of  hard 
road  labor  every  week  at  2.25  francs  per.  On  most  things, 
furthermore,  his  view-point  is  remarkably  balanced  and 
sane. 

Perhaps  somewhat  the  same  war-time  differences  of 
opinion,  made  intense  by  the  fearful  strains  of  the  war, 
are  at  the  bottom  of  the  fierce  conflict  in  the  General 
Labor  Federation's  annual  conference  up  at  Lille.  Yes- 
terday belts,  chairs,  and  even  bullets  passed  between  the 
majority  Socialists  and  the  minority  Communists,  luckily 
without  fatalities. 

Another  "hang  over"  of  much  the  same  sort  is,  doubt- 
less, the  large  number  of  divorces  now  reported  in  France. 
The  bibulous  friend  of  Monday,  for  instance,  has  just 
divorced  his  wife  for  her  overfriendliness  with  an  Aus- 
tralian soldier.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  that  she  had  had — 
perhaps  for  a  year — no  idea  whether  her  husband  was 
alive  or  dead,  at  the  moment  the  English  marched  into 
the  town,  just  after  it  had  been  pillaged.  History's  Great 
War  has  also  been,  evidently,  history's  great  "Mix- 
up":  an  enormous  number  of  children  of  the  present 
French  generation  are  going  to  represent  an  amazing 
mixture  of  bloods.  So  far  I've  seen  no  Chinese  laborers 
here,  but  of  Algerians,  Senegalese,  negroes,  Italians,  Span- 
iards, Poles,  etc.,  etc.,  there  are  many  still  at  work  here 
as  during  the  war,  and  in  many  cases  they  have  become 
illicit  husbands.  The  French  appear  to  hold  slight  prej- 
udice against  them  and  to  make  slight  distinction 
amongst  them.  Last  evening  I  was  introduced  to  an  old 
fellow  as  an  American: 

"You  know,  these  foreigners  aren't  so  bad,"  he  ex- 


"FRENCH  NIGHTS  IN  A  BARROOM"          45 

pressed  himself  to  our  mutual  friend.  "Why,  not  long 
ago  I  met  a  Pole — yes,  from  Poland,  and  he  was  quite 
a  fine  fellow.  Yes,  it's  true,  so,  I'm  pleased  to  meet  you, 
Mr.  American." 

Still,  each  month  is  helping  the  world  "back  to  nor- 
malcy," more  than  we  are  apt  to  think.  To-day,  for  in- 
stance, the  papers  feature  the  notice  that  only  four  days 
remain  in  which  a  citizen  can  present  his  claims  for  war 
damages.  That  means  that  thousands  and  thousands 
have  put  in  their  claims,  received  the  proper  amount  and 
spent  it  for  furniture,  etc.  That's  said  to  be  one  cause 
for  the  great  number  of  bicycles  here  in  town.  Though 
they  were  fairly  scarce  before  the  war,  it  somehow  hap- 
pened, so  the  boys  say  at  the  plant,  with  a  wink,  that 
nearly  everybody  happened  to  have  one  on  hand  when 
an  English  bomb  fell  or  when  the  final  pillage  took  place. 
With  the  payment  of  war  damages,  a  great  many  people, 
of  course,  came  into  more  money  than  they  had  ever 
seen  before.  In  order  to  stop  the  wasteful  expenditure 
which  often  followed,  it  was  shortly  required  of  a  person 
to  show  receipts  indicating  his  outlay  in  the  proper  direc- 
tions of  house-rebuilding  or  refurnishing  before  the  full 
sum  was  turned  over. 

The  same  "reconstitution"  is  represented  by  the  laying 
of  the  corner-stone  of  the  new  library  at  Louvain.  Burned 
by  the  invaders  August  25,  1914,  the  new  building  has 
been  made  possible  by  American  givers.  Last  week,  also, 
American  givers  were  represented  at  the  restoration  of 
the  cathedral  at  Rheims.  (Around  the  table  here,  by 
the  way,  they  say  that  after  the  invaders  came  into  the 
Rheims  country,  they  pillaged  all  the  large  champagne 


46    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

cellar-depositories,  and  as  a  result  got  so  drunk  that  the 
only  trouble  the  French  soldiers  had  was  to  get  them  to 
move  themselves  back  to  the  prison-camps !) 

There  are  a  good  many  one-armed  and  one-legged  men 
about,  but  not  so  many  as  might  be  expected.  All  in- 
dustry appears  to  be  co-operating  hi  finding  them  work. 
There  has  been  no  time  to  visit  the  local  school  for  the 
" mutileV':  fifty-four  hours  of  work  eat  quite  a  hole  in 
a  week. 

The  surprising  freedom  with  which  crowds  of  young 
girls  from  thirteen  years  up  were  dancing  with  the  boys 
at  the  band  concert  in  the  square  last  Sunday  night  is 
also  said  to  be  largely  the  result  of  the  war.  It  comes 
partly  from  the  new  ideas  of  feminine  liberty  brought 
by  the  American  and  other  soldiers.  Partly  also  from 
the  unconscious  effort  to  forget  the  dreadful  war  in  every 
possible  way.  It  looks  certain  that  things  will  never 
get  back  here — or  anywhere  else  in  the  world — to  the 
old  " normalcy."  " There  ain't  no  such  animal  " — it  has 
died  and  been  buried.  But  things  are  surely  getting 
back  to,  at  least,  a  new  normalcy.  If  anybody  could 
guess  just  what  that  will  be,  he  could  come  close  to  guess- 
ing the  near  future  of  the  nations. 

Now  to  "wrap  the  drapery  of  my  couch  about  me/' 
except  that  it  isn't  wide  enough  to  wrap  nor  clean  enough 
to  suggest  pleasant  dreams. 

Thursday,  the  29th. 

Well,  I've  just  come  close  to  "spilling  the  beans." 
And  glad  of  it,  too,  now  that  it's  over. 
The  day's  ten  hours  of  fearful  heat,  plus  the  usual  ham- 


"FRENCH  NIGHTS  IN  A  BARROOM"          47 

mering,  brought  me  "home"  a  few  hours  ago  pretty  well 
done  up.  That  is  probably  the  reason  the  whole  outfit 
down-stairs  in  the  kitchen  seemed  a  few  degrees  sloppier 
and  nastier  than  ever.  I  certainly  wanted  to  saw  and 
quarter  the  mass  of  buzzing  flies  that  have  to  be  forced 
out  of  the  way  when  you  start  up  the  stairs  past  the  open 
garbage  can,  the  baby's  soiled  things,  and  the  dog's  plat- 
ter. Luckily,  there  is  never  any  question  about  the 
propriety  of  any  one's  stripping  to  the  waist  for  a  cool 
bath  at  the  kitchen  pump  in  the  presence  of  the  landlady 
and  the  assortment  of  other  women  who  come  in  to  help 
along,  and  stay  for  supper.  Such  remarks  and  indecen- 
cies of  allusion  as  are  passed  out  by  the  men,  and 
enjoyed,  apparently,  by  the  women  I  would  never  have 
believed  possible  in  any  civilized  society. 

When  we  finally  sat  down  to  supper  the  whole  thing 
seemed  worse  than  ever.  With  the  window  of  our  dining 
or  bar  room  opening  into  the  kitchen,  we  all  had  to  chase 
flies  with  one  hand  while  we  served  ourselves  with  the 
other. 

In  the  midst  of  it  all,  the  landlord — doubtless  he  was 
"done  in,"  too — broke  out  into  the  worst  abuse  yet  of 
poor  little  Suzanne.  It  has  been  a  poor  day  for  anybody's 
brakes — including  my  own.  I  suddenly  "came  to"  by 
finding  myself  shouting  out  to  him  hi  bad  French  to  stop  it. 

The  silence  that  fell  on  the  table !  Their  spoons  poised 
in  astonishment,  the  mother  and  all  the  boarders  stopped 
gurgling  their  soup  and  looked  at  me  and  then  at  him. 
Of  course  he  got  his  breath  quickly  and  roared  back  at 
me: 

"Here  in  France,  sir,  I'd  have  you  know,  we  believe 


48    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

that  children  must  obey!  That's  the  only  lesson  they 
need  know  at  her  age.  Later,  perhaps,  something  else, 
but  obedience  now.  You're  in  France  now  and  in  my 
home,  and  I'll  handle  her  the  way  I  please  without  any 
advice  from  you." 

I  could  only  say  that  it  was  none  of  my  affair,  of  course, 
but  that  I  had  a  daughter  of  thirteen  whom  I'd  give  my 
arm  to  see  and  would  not  talk  to  in  that  way.  For  some 
reason,  perhaps  the  fatigue  and  the  lonesomeness,  it 
proved  hard  to  keep  back  the  tears.  Luckily  the  mason 
helped  by  saying  that  he  got  obedience  in  his  large  family 
without  speaking  so  brusquely.  To  save  his  face,  the 
landlord,  when  he  had  sat  down  and  things  had  quieted, 
told  us  with  considerable  fervor  how: 

"The  French  girl  of  fourteen,  I  assure  you  of  it,  is 
better  raised,  more  polite  and  polished,  better  educated, 
and  in  every  way  more  developed  and  more  intelligent, 
than  the  American  girl  of  twenty." 

From  that  he  went  into  praising  the  French  soldier  in 
much  the  same  terms  of  comparison  with  all  others.  That 
luckily  gave  the  one-eyed  laborer,  bless  him,  the  chance 
to  say — with  proper  tact — that  with  all  officers  of  all 
armies  there  must  be,  of  course,  no  question  of  obedience. 
"But  the  important  question,  m'sieu',  is  how  best  to 
get  it — by  harshness  or  by  good  treatment." 

That,  in  turn,  gave  me  the  chance  to  relate  Tom's  ac- 
counts of  various  times  when  officers  known  for  their 
vicious  methods  had  fallen  in  battle  with  bullets  from 
behind ! 

And  so  the  crisis  passed — without  my  landing  on  the 
street. 


"FRENCH  NIGHTS  IN  A  BARROOM"          49 

One  of  its  greatest  tortures  was  the  inability  to  use 
plain  English.  It's  awful  to  have  to  find  an  outlet  for 
so  much  emotional  pressure  hi  so  "petite  "  a  channel  as 
my  French  permits.  It  would  have  been  worth  a  small 
farm  to  answer  his  claim  about  the  French  girls,  for  in- 
stance, with  what  a  boarding-house  of  the  same  class  in 
America  would  have  permitted — and  required: 

"Aw,  for  the  love  o'  Mike,  where  d'ya  get  that  stuff, 
huh?" 

Just  now  I  feel  like  a  wreck,  and  can  think  of  little  but 
steamers,  harbors,  Pullman  cars,  and  the  like.  I  wonder, 
too,  what  little  red-faced  Suzanne  thinks  of  her  father. 
After  all,  he  only  represents  much  the  same  kind  of  disci- 
pline that  our  religious  teachers  tried  to  drive  into  us  for  a 
number  of  centuries.  Worst  of  all,  they  thought  when 
they  did  it  that  they  were  following  the  spirit  of  the 
founder  of  Christianity!  That  same  idea  of  fear — the 
fear  of  losing  the  job — is  still  utilized  as  the  only  basis  of 
obedience  and  discipline  in  most  of  the  world's  factories. 
It  looks  like  a  mighty  expensive  plan  because,  like  little 
Suzanne,  the  men  don't  figure  that  their  good-will  is 
asked  for.  Over  at  the  shop  to-day,  for  instance.  .  .  . 
But  there's  not  the  gizzard  left  in  me  for  going  into  that 
just  now.  It  takes  all  there  is  to  get  over  on  to  the  springs 
that  commence  to  groan  with  the  travail  of  my  spirit  as 
I  commence  to  feel  myself  the  object  of  diverse — diverse 
and  unwanted — attentions. 

"30  Juillet."< 

Some  day  I  must  composo  a  poem  or  somethin'  entitled 
"Some  Towels  I  Have  Met."  Only  it  might  not  be  al- 


50    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

lowed  the  freedom  of  the  mails !  Anyway,  here's  a  pledge 
to  shake  hands  with  the  next  clean  one  encountered! 
Of  course,  I  could  import  my  own.  But  with  everybody 
performing  his  toilet — or  hers — here  by  the  kitchen  pump, 
a  private  towel  would  make  altogether  too  much  differ- 
ence in  caste. 

In  the  same  way  I  could,  presumably,  buy  plenty  of 
attractive  French  pastries  between  meals.  But  holding 
up  my  end  requires  that  my  plate  be  emptied  of  at  least 
half  the  huge  amount  which  these  laborers  eat.  Any 
spoiling  of  appetite  after  the  day's  hard  work  would  make 
that  impossible.  As  it  is,  I  can  almost  get  pleasure  out 
of  my  "good  form"  in  putting  the  skins  of  my  smoked 
herring,  for  instance,  onto  the  table  and  then,  when 
finished,  scraping  them  all  off  skilfully  into  my  well- 
emptied  plate. 

What  is  most  to  the  point,  it  looks  as  though  we  have 
gotten  each  other's  confidence  for  discussing  plenty  of 
things  together.  To-day,  for  instance,  the  ever-hatted, 
long-mustached  railway  worker  gave,  unconsciously,  a 
capital  testimony  on  the  psychological  string  which  ties 
such  a  bedlam  as  is  our  kitchen  to  booze. 

"This  young  fellow  will  be  sick  before  long,"  he  opined 
to  a  lady  visitor  about  my  comparative  temperance. 
"He  doesn't  drink  enough.  If  a  person  drinks  plenty  of 
alcohol  he  protects  himself  against  cholera  and  all  sorts 
of  disease.  Me,  when  I  miss  my  cognac  and  go  out  onto 
the  street,  then  all,  the  nasty  smells  along  the  way  begin 
to  make  me  sick.  They  give  me  quickly  a  headache— 
you  know  how  it  is,  yes?  But  let  our  landlord  put 
plenty  of  it  in  my  coffee,  or  maybe  give  me  a  good  glass 


"FRENCH  NIGHTS  IN  A  BARROOM"          51 

of  Genievre   (gin) — then  I  can  walk  past  those  same 
smells  and  never  notice  them  at  all." 

Quite  so.  And  rather  desirable,  this  greasing  of  his 
senses,  not  only  here  in  our  kitchen  but  also  out  on  the 
streets  with  their  sanitary  lacks  due  to  the  public's  pecu- 
liar thought  and  habits  about  certain  things.  This  same 
situation,  due  to  carelessness,  of  course,  has  probably 
served  to  make  the  city's  drinking  water  fairly  danger- 
ous. The  result  is  to  make  beer  and  wine  the  national 
thirst  quenchers — children  must  drink  the  beer  as  well 
as  grown-ups,  for  water  is  almost  never  drunk  by  this 
group.  Similarly,  gin  and  cognac  and  other  things  be- 
come the  national  health  protectives. 

Tom,  by  the  way,  confirms  last  summer's  impression 
in  England.  He  believes  that  the  "rum  ration"  in  the 
British  army  is  responsible  for  teaching  many  boys  to 
drink :  he  says  he  refused  his  up  till  almost  the  last.  The 
Frenchmen  here  tell  of  huge  doses  of  almost  pure  alcohol 
given  them  before  " going  over  the  top." 

One  of  the  franknesses  following  on  the  established 
confidence  and  good-will  gave  me  a  moment's  scare. 

"You  can't  be  a  regular  American,  m'sieu',"  a  chap 
said  to  me  last  night.  For  an  instant  it  looked  as  though  he 
were  going  to  start  trouble.  "You  see,  as  a  boy  I  read 
much  about  life  there  with  you.  And  according  to  them 
all,  every  American  has  more  than  you  of  a  red  skin." 

He  was  referring  to  "Faineemoor  Coo-pair"  (Feni- 
more  Cooper) ! 

A  little  later  the  mason  was  almost  offended  because 
of  my  difficulty  in  understanding  him  when  he  spoke 
of  "coo-ee  boo-ees,"  as  seen  in  the  movies  of  American 


52     HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

life.  The  habitat  of  these  cowboys  is  variously  located 
in  the  minds  of  my  friends  here  as  somewhere  west  of 
New  York  City  and  a  little  south  of  Buenos  Aires ! 

Here  hi  this  district  the  residents  saw  nothing  of  our 
dough-boys.  They  seem  to  think  the  English  Tommies 
extremely  hard-drinking  and  drunken.  Both  the  dis- 
trict and  the  Paris  papers  are  amazingly  meagre,  not 
only  with  regard  to  America  but  about  the  world  in  gen- 
eral, including  France  itself.  None  of  these — including 
the  Matin  and  the  Journal — has  more  than  four  pages 
all  together,  with  possibly  six  on  Sunday.  Of  each  of 
these  four,  you  can  take  off  a  page  and  a  half  for  the  total 
of  very  modest  ads.  So  far  as  news  is  concerned  you 
can  subtract  at  least  a  column  and  a  half  for  the  daily 
novel.  That  leaves  a  total  of,  say,  fifteen  or  sixteen 
columns  for  all  the  doings  of  Douai,  the  Republic  of 
France,  and  the  rest  of  the  world. 

"You  see  the  Frenchman  wants  only  to  see  in  five 
lines  what  the  actual  event  was.  Then  he  looks  the  next 
day  to  see  what  some  well-known  deputy  or  statesman 
believes  the  event  to  mean." 

That  is  the  explanation  by  a  journalist  who  has  lived 
many  years  hi  both  America  and  Paris.  The  trouble  is 
that  even  the  five  lines  are  very  scarce.  That  is  partic- 
ularly true  when  nearly  half  a  page  is  given,  day  after 
day,  to  the  exploits  of  the  bandits  who  recently  held  up 
the  Marseilles  express  "  after  the  manner  of  the  best 
American  movies." 

"They  can't  get  the  French  business  man  to  take  the 
risk  of  advertising.  So  the  editors  have  to  save  on  news 
service,"  says  an  American  editor. 


"FRENCH  NIGHTS  IN  A  BARROOM"          53 

"Most  of  them  find  their  bread  buttered  best  when 
they  make  themselves  simply  the  mouthpiece  of  the  gov- 
ernment. They  are  paid  fairly  well  for  this.  So  why 
bother  about  news?  They  live  not  by  the  news  but  by 
propaganda."  So  a  French  observer  explains  it. 

Me,  I  don't  know  the  cause.  But  I  am  sure  that  it 
makes  a  most  outstanding  and  serious  lack — one  calcu- 
lated to  interfere  with  France's  wish  to  be  considered 
fit  to  play  a  much  larger  part  in  the  future  of  the  world 
than  in  the  last  generation  or  two.  Naturally  enough, 
to  my  worker  friends  the  biggest  international  event  of 
recent  months  is  the  Dempsey-Carpentier  fight.  They 
accept  their  popular  champion's  defeat  with  good  grace. 

"  Tropfort,"  they  say  with  a  gesture  registering  bigness 
of  wrist  and  arm  and  neck.  "Too  strong." 

In  spite  of  finishing  the  week's  work  to-day,  I  men- 
tioned to  the  landlord  that  I  had  noticed  some  estaminets 
near  by  which  were  charging  only  nine  francs  a  day.  His 
reply  was  that  such  places  served  only  imported — that 
is,  frozen — meat  while  he  made  a  point  of  serving  fresh, 
and,  therefore,  local  "viande."  Strange  that  this  prej- 
udice against  South  and  North  American  meat  should 
exist  here  as  well  as  in  England  in  spite  of  its  costing  less 
and  being  generally  better.  As  the  other  places  are  even 
dirtier  than  the  "Tout  Va  Bien"  I'm  perfectly  glad  to 
have  paid  the  twelve  francs  here. 

Douai, 

:  Monday  A.  M ., 
August  1. 

Was  positively  sorry  Saturday  morning  to  say  good- 
by  to  my  good  chums,  Tom  and  my  French  boy  who 


54    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

gets  married  next  month.  I  hope  Tom  makes  good.  His 
pride  in  his  saw  is  sure  to  get  him  somewhere — possibly 
into  trouble!  Friday  a  particularly  hard  beam  forced 
the  saw  to  call  for  so  much  "juice"  that  a  fuse  was  blown 
out  in  the  main  power-station.  So  the  whole  plant  came 
to  a  stop.  Tom  got  an  immense  amount  of  delight  out 
of  the  mishap.  "I  did  it  on  purpose,"  he  whispered  to 
us,  like  a  tickled  schoolboy.  Of  course  he  didn't.  Still 
his  sense  of  importance  was  wondrous  to  behold.  Yester- 
day he  spent  practically  all  afternoon  transforming  a 
box  into  a  tool-chest,  and  was  as  happy  as  any  girl  with 
a  new  doll  house.  I  wonder  if  the  psycho-analysts  would 
find  a  connection  between  that  and  the  fact  that  the  bane 
of  his  childhood  days  in  England  was  a  mother  who  drank 
and  who  made  him  fear  her  four-foot  cane: 

"Blime,  I  used  ter  think  she  cud  use  that  bleedin'  cane 
like  a  fair  lassoo — that  expert  she  was  with  it,  as  ye  might 
sye." 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  compliment  the  superintendent 
on  the  excellent  working  conditions  in  his  plant.  It  is 
to  be  hoped  they  will  continue  so  after,  for  instance,  the 
brand-new  roof  windows  get  dirty.  Much  of  the  splen- 
did spirit  of  self-respecting  workmanship  doubtless  comes 
from  the  general  feeling  that  the  big  bosses  are  honest 
and  trying  to  earn  their  salaries:  that's  one  interpreta- 
tion made  by  the  men  of  their  frequent  appearance  in 
the  plant  itself.  It's  a  pleasant  place  to  be.  When  a 
fellow  is  busy  it's  a  joy  to  listen  to  the  hammers  of  the 
machinists  or  to  the  ascending  gamut  of  the  cranes  or 
"rolling  bridges,"  as  they're  called  here,  as  their  revo- 
lutions ascend  the  scale  from  "start"  to  "full" — also  to 


"FRENCH  NIGHTS  IN  A  BARROOM"          55 

*j 

watch  while  our  finished  steel  beams,  careening  grace- 
fully in  their  chains,  are  carried  down  the  bay  to  the  big 
machines  where  the  drillers  make  all  the  holes  we've 
chalked  for  them.  When  the  place  is  finished  I  hope  the 
infirmary  will  have  cleaner  quarters  and  a  cleaner,  smarter 
man  nurse. 

Yesterday  afternoon  on  a  final  Sunday  stroll  with  the 
landlord,  it  was  again  a  series  of  friendly  bars  and  various 
"good  comrades."  The  last  of  these  was  one  who  had 
not  got  on  well.  The  man's  home  was  a  tiny  farmlet 
with  a  collection  of  pigs,  rabbits,  chickens,  and  pigeons, 
all  under  his  one  roof.  His  father-in-law  was  a  drunken 
wreck  who  earned  a  little  money  with  his  hand-cart  and 
a  huge  hound. 

"Five  hundred  kilos — a  demi  ton,  that  is — he  can  pull, 
and  for  twenty  kilometres,"  the  old  man  explained  with 
pride  as  he  kissed  the  dog's  great  muzzle. 

"A  revolution  we'll  have — and  soon,"  he  shouted  to 
us  a  little  later  in  between  his  drunken  songs. 

"But  no,"  his  eighteen-year-old  grandson  called  out 
to  him.  "The  dearness  of  living,  it  is  everywhere.  Yes, 
to  be  sure.  But  it  comes  from  the  war.  It  grows  worse, 
but  it  will  pass  finally." 

"It  is  the  last  death-pangs  of  Capitalism,"  so  says  to- 
day the  chief  Communist  journal  regarding  the  unem- 
ployment now  spreading  throughout  France  and  the 
rest  of  the  world.  Up  at  the  big  conference  at  Lille,  the 
Conservatives  in  the  "C.  G.  T.,"  had  a  majority  of  only 
about  250  votes  out  of  3,000  over  the  radicals. 

"France's  500,000  or  600,000  soldiers— yes,  perhaps 
800,000 — a  huge  sum  these  cost  us  all,  for  their  beer  and 


56    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

bread  and  bed!"  protests  the  mason.  "Yes,  and  that's 
not  all.  Think  for  yourself  how  much  these  could  earn 
for  France  if  they  could  work!  Perhaps  one  milliard 
(billion)  of  francs !  And  not  one  of  us  that  wants  to  fight 
a  living  soul — surely  not  one  of  us  who  have  seen  this 
war.  When  I  was  a  boy — yes,  then  it  was  different.  You 
know  how  it  was,  my  friends?  You  perhaps  did  as  I. 
I  used  to  go  to  our  town  library  and  get  down  the  great 
books  with  the  soldier  pictures;  then  I'd  say,  'Aha,  some 
day  I  shall  be  like  that — some  day  I  shall  be  soldier!' 
Was  it  not  so?  Yes.  But  now!  Well,  as  I  have  said, 
I  was  at  Verdun.  And  I  want  no  more  war.  No,  it  must 
not  be — never  in  life  again!" 

Last  week  a  Paris  paper  recalled  that  the  first  railway 
in  the  world  was  put  into  operation  a  hundred  years  ago 
— only  a  hundred  years  ago.  Doubtless,  it  is  these  steel 
rails  and  steam  giants  that  have  helped  us  to  pull  such 
an  enormous  load  as  that  of  the  century's  developments, 
and  to  travel  so  fast  and  so  far  into  the  territory  of  so 
many  new  and  steel-gray  problems. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  must  let  one  of  the  big  engines  land 
me  in  the  midst  of  ruined  Lens. 


CHAPTER  IV 
HATE  AND  HOPE  AT  HEROIC  LENS 

Lens, 

Tuesday  A.  M., 
August  2. 

MOST  of  the  twelve  miles  from  Douai  was  behind  the 
Germans'  front  lines,  and  many  houses  had  evidently 
been  bombed  or  shelled  by  the  English.  On  all  sides 
masons  and  builders  are  busy — also  the  harvesters  of 
the  yellow  wheat  and  oats.  Part  of  the  way  the  railway 
itself  had  evidently  served  as  near  the  front  line,  judging 
from  the  tons  and  tons  of  tangled  barbed  wire  heaped 
up  every  few  rods  on  both  sides. 

Lens  used  to  be  a  city  of  over  40,000,  the  leading  coal 
centre  of  France.  But  we  had  to  take  the  word  of  the 
conductor  when  it  came  tune  to  get  out — there  was  no 
sign  of  station  shelter  other  than  the  merest  shed.  When 
the  armistice  came,  one  brick  upon  another  there  was  in 
Lens,  but  it  was  the  brick  upon  another  of  the  deepest 
ruination  only :  the  whole  place  was  simply  a  pile  of  debris 
traversed  by  a  few  straggling  paths.  The  amazing  thing 
is  how  even  in  three  years  and  less  the  laborers  could 
have  cleaned  it  up  so  well,  ready  now  for  starting  over 
again.  Amazing,  too,  to  get  a  very  fair  lunch  hi  one  of 
the  few  new  brick  buildings  before  taking  the  train  again 
to  a  suburb  where  a  letter  had  to  be  presented  to  a  mine 
official. 

The  tale  he  told  of  the  cold-blooded  murder  of  the  dis- 

57 


58    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

trict's  mines  makes  a  man  want  alternately  to  laugh  and 
cry  and  swear.  It  must  have  taken  tons  and  tons  of  am- 
munition to  put  the  mine  tips  and  washeries  into  the  con- 
dition of  complete  ruin  evident  from  the  train  on  all  sides 
— for  there  are  nearly  forty  shafts  in  the  Lens  district 
proper.  Boilers  lie  prostrate  with  their  torn  sheets  point- 
ing in  every  angle  and  direction,  huge  steel  beams 
crumpled  and  folded  and  twisted,  walls  levelled.  All  and 
.everywhere  the  most  complete  agglomerated  chaos  of 
wreck  and  ruin  the  mind  can  conceive.  Worse  than  that, 
other  stores  of  high  explosive  were  set  off  below  surface 
in  the  mine  shafts.  The  whole  district,  at  a  certain  level, 
is  practically  an  underground  lake.  To  put  the  shafts 
down  they  have  to  freeze  the  ground  while  they  work 
in  caissons  almost  as  if  they  were  digging  through  the 
sea.  So  the  explosion  of  hundreds  of  pounds  of  powder 
at  this  level  in  a  few  pits  placed  the  whole  vast  series  of 
intercommunicating  mine  workings  under  water. 

"One  of  the  new  pumps  which  we  have  installed  lifts 
to  the  surface  180,000  cubic  metres  or  tons  of  water  every 
twenty-four  hours.  We  commenced  operating  the  first 
pump  hi  November,  1920.  We  have  reduced  the  water's 
height  by  about  175  yards.  We  shall  be  putting  others 
in  as  rapidly  as  we  can  get  them.  Nevertheless,  at  the 
best  we  cannot  hope  to  get  the  water  out  again  until  well 
toward  the  end  of  1923 !" 

The  company  that  operated  these  mines  housed  its 
16,000  miners  in  8,000  houses — at  a  rental  of  about  $2.00 
per  month.  Their  output  was  over  4,000,000  tons  or  one- 
tenth  that  of  all  France.  Of  this  national  total  of  40,- 
000,000  tons,  this  north  country  supplied  about  three- 


HATE  AND  HOPE  AT  HEROIC  LENS          59 

fourths.  About  three-fourths  of  this,  in  turn,  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  invaders  throughout  the  war.  And  still 
France  somehow  continued  to  make  steel  and  carry  on  her 
fight !  Cut  off  from  more  than  half  her  regular  supply  of 
coal  and  much  of  her  steel,  she  still  continued  to  do  busi- 
ness— much  as  if  an  invading  army  were  to  establish 
itself  within  the  first  two  months  of  its  arrival  through- 
out the  State  of  Pennsylvania  and  much  of  New  Eng- 
land! 

I  take  off  my  hat  to  a  spirit  like  that.  I  take  it  off  again 
to  the  spirit  that  comes  back  to  such  a  mess  of  bricks  and 
twisted  steel,  and  calmly  tackles  the  job  of  getting  it 
going  again  on  something  like  the  old  basis:  of  the  com- 
pany^ homes  only  thirty  were  standing  when  the  final 
gun  was  fired.  Everywhere  the  eye  sees  the  neat  new 
mine  pulley- wheels  or  " sheaves"  and  housings  of  the 
new  '"tips,"  great  new  washeries  and  coke  ovens  rising 
above  the  tangled  wreckage  and  the  dugouts  and  cul- 
vert-like log  cabins  with  inverted  U-shaped  roofs  of  gal- 
vanized iron.  Already  nearly  3,000  new  houses  are  up 
again — following  the  efforts  of  nearly  10,000  laborers 
from  just  about  all  over  the  world. 

Up  till  a  few  months  ago  the  government  has  been 
advancing  the  huge  sums  needed  for  all  this  reconstruc- 
tion. Since  then  it  has  had  to  stop — its  treasury  ex- 
hausted— pending  better  arrangements  with  a  certain 
debtor.  But  the  company  has  had  the  faith  of  its  con- 
victions. (Faith  seems  to  grow  around  here,  and  not  on 
trees  either,  for  they  were  all  shot  away:  perhaps  it  grew 
on  barbed  wire,  there  are  miles  and  miles  of  that.)  So  it 
has  borrowed  and  now  spends,  on  pumping,  cleaning  up, 


60    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

building,  and  installing,  the  huge  sum  of  800,000  francs 
a  day.  They  expect  again  to  ship  coal  all  over  France, 
mostly  by  the  system  of  canals  which  go  from  all  this 
country  up  to  the  coast  at  Calais  and  Dunkirk,  up  north- 
east to  Lille  and  its  factories,  also  to  Paris  and,  by  a  short 
cut  of  the  Marne  and  Oise  Rivers,  down  to  the  great  in- 
dustrial district  around  Lyon.  Besides  all  the  by-products 
of  naphtha,  tar,  benzol,  etc.,  from  their  500  coke  furnaces, 
they  expect  to  generate  enough  gas  to  furnish  the  horse- 
power needed  for  the  pits,  to  supply  the  city  and  suburbs 
with  free  light  and  sewing-machine  service,  and,  hi  ad- 
dition, to  send  cheap  electric  power  to  points  as  far  away 
as  Paris. 

At  the  conversation's  end  I  was  told  that  it  was  too 
dangerous  for  me  to  go  to  work  with  the  few  hundred 
miners  now  getting  out  a  little  coal,  but  that  I  could  go 
below — the  third  visitor  to  date  to  have  such  a  privilege, 
and  that  only  because  I  was  an  American.  Rather  than 
wait  for  the  evening  train,  I  set  off  afoot  for  the  eight 
miles  back  to  Lens. 

It  was  evident  that  the  canal  itself  had  once  been  No 
Man's  Land.  The  wire  entanglements  made  great  dreary 
piles — much  of  it  with  four-pointed  barbs  to  every  inch. 
It  made  it  easy  to  recall  the  pictures  seen  of  dead  men 
hanging  almost  upright,  their  clothes  caught  in  so  many 
places  at  once.  The  little  electric  cars  which  ordinarily 
pull  the  canal's  boats  are  not  in  operation,  but  otherwise 
the  traffic  seems  normal  enough.  One  family  was  rest- 
ing its  horses  while  mother  held  by  a  rope  the  small 
daughter  taking  a  cooling  dip. 

"I  am  mayor  of  the  village  here  and  was  during  the 


HATE  AND  HOPE  AT  HEROIC  LENS          61 

war,"  the  keeper  of  an  estaminet  assured  me  when  I 
stopped  in  to  rest  a  moment.  "My  wife  here  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  boche  while  I  was  with  my  regiment.  I 
was  the  first  man  into  the  place  after  the  Germans  left. 
It  is  not  possible  to  describe  it.  Terrible,  I  do  assure 
you.  .  .  .  Now?  .  .  .  But  yes,  much  progress  has 
been  made." 

He  sent  a  crippled  boy  along  as  a  guide  to  the  next 
town.  At  various  points  we  could  see  the  only  buildings 
which  had  survived  the  general  destruction  that  had 
otherwise  put  every  home  into  its  own  cellar.  These 
are  the  low,  flat  monoliths  of  concrete  and  steel  which 
gave  the  Germans  shelter  during  the  worst  bombardments. 
Along  the  railroad  embankment,  other  enormous  masses 
of  steel  and  concrete  continue  to  shelter  parts  of  the  can- 
non that  were  pointed  west  and  southwest  at  the  English 
lines  just  a  few  miles  away.  Out  on  the  road  we  walked 
on  the  lips  of  the  front-line  trenches.  Under  foot  were 
hundreds  of  the  steel  casings  of  British  shrapnel,  heaps  of 
grenade  handles,  the  torn  steel  of  the  gas  bombs,  etc.,  etc. 

"Right  here,  m'sieu',"  according  to  the  boy,  "the  dead 
soldiers  used  to  lie  line  upon  line,  like  those  sheaves  of 
wheat  there.  Just  like  that,  m'sieu'.  .  .  .  And  since 
long  time  here,  too,  very  dangerous  to  farm.  Still  many 
'obus'  (shells)  down  underneath,  though  one  seeks  for 
them  always  and  has  them  exploded  carefully." 

In  only  a  few  places  are  the  trenches  still  to  be  seen. 
Sprawling  and  uncertain  in  direction  they  are,  irregular 
and  much  more  shallow  than  I  had  expected.  It  appears 
that  the  fearful  cannonading  so  ploughs  up  the  place 
as  to  force  the  trench  line  to  follow  wherever  the  shell 


62    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

holes  and  their  rims  permit.  The  amazing  thing  is  the 
vast  amount  of  change  that  has  already  been  made.  Ex- 
s  cept  for  a  low  wave  of  white  chalky  subsoil  running 
through  the  harvested  fields,  it  would  be  all  but  impos- 
sible to  guess  that  almost  every  yard  of  these  pleasant, 
yellow  lands  had  been  drenched  in  blood. 

Back  in  Lens  the  incoming  trains  were  evidently  in- 
creasing the  population  rapidly.  Laborers  carried  their 
possessions  in  their  knapsacks.  Women  had  chairs,  bath- 
tubs and  wash-stands  piled  on  top  of  the  baby's  feet. 
Undestroyed  hopes,  fresh  plans,  abounding  faith,  every- 
where. 

Too  tired  to  test  the  quality  of  the  new  and  grandiose 
two-storied  cinema,  I  made  for  one  of  the  rude  single- 
story  barracks — boarding-houses.  It  furnishes  a  mere 
cell  for  bed  and  wash-stand.  But  clean.  Clean  sheets 
and  clean  wash-stand — with  no  flies,  almost,  and  no  scold- 
ing of  Suzanne.  Just  before  I  went  to  sleep  thanking 
"le  bon  Dieu"  for  letting  a  fellow  have  a  look  at  such 
a  wondrous  combination  of  the  works  of  hate  and  of  hope 
as  this  town  gives,  I  found  myself  chanting  as  I  got  into 
the  clean  bed: 

"What  perfection — what  luxury!  Blessed  are  they 
who  are  concerned  to  make  clean,  for  such  help  also  to 
courage  and  to  charity." 

Lens, 

Tuesday  evening. 

It  is  easy  to  bear  up  under  the  company's  unwilling- 
ness to  put  me  to  work — after  seeing  the  men  getting 
out  coal  under  the  conditions  inflicted  upon  these  mines 
and  miners  by  "les  boches." 


HATE  AND  HOPE  AT  HEROIC  LENS          63 

A  tiny  drum  serves  to  lower  the  small  cars  to  the  only 
dry  seam.  When  the  engineer  and  I  got  out — about  400 
feet  down — we  found  it  wet  and  nasty  enough,  especially 
where  the  pressure  of  all  the  water-filled  ground  beneath 
was  pushing  up  the  floor.  To-day  the  miners  are  getting 
out  of  the  pit  about  100  tons  a  day  as  compared  with  a 
former  3,000.  In  the  early  days  of  the  war  this  shaft's 
pair  of  high  steel  towers  made  the  Tommies  hereabouts 
at  Loos  call  it  the  Tower  Bridge  mine.  Of  all  that  super- 
structure every  single  pound  was  left  a  wreck. 

In  some  rooms  men  work  their  picks  or  their  air-drills 
at  a  vein  hardly  two  feet  and  a  half  thick.  Then  they 
shovel  the  coal  into  a  steel  chute  where  it  moves  to  a 
waiting  car  whenever  a  half-naked  worker  pulls  a  great 
lever  back  and  forth  above  his  head.  Altogether  it  looks 
like  the  genuine  thing  in  the  way  of  hard  work,  and  hardly 
overpaid  at  the  rate  of  from  twenty-two  to  twenty-five 
francs  per  day  of  eight  hours. 

All  these  conditions,  however,  are  too  abnormal  to  be 
judged.  Even  to-day  the  men  were  complaining  of  the 
air-drills,  the  engineer  assuring  them  that  he  understood 
perfectly  but  that  no  others  could  be  obtained  as  yet. 
Then  he  showed  me  ventilating  pipes  covered  with  sol- 
dered shrapnel  holes.  We  got  still  closer  to  the  war's 
greatest  deviltry — at  least  its  most  coolly  calculated 
deviltry — when  we  reached  the  galleries  from  which  only 
the  water  has  been  pumped  out. 

Yesterday  I  wondered  why  that  could  not  be  used  for 
irrigating  or  other  purposes.  To-day  told  why.  Not 
only  is  it  very  sulphurous  but,  during  the  occupation, 
the  invaders  put  the  bodies  of  many  horses,  and  also  of 


64    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

the  enemy  dead — into  the  pits — besides  making  them 
the  cess-pool  of  the  army!  So  the  mine  captain  went 
ahead  into  the  unopened  portion  and  tested  the  air  care- 
fully so  as  to  make  sure  that  neither  our  lamps  nor  our 
senses  would  be  put  out  by  the  noxious  gases.  It  is  hard 
to  think  of  a  more  unpleasant  job  than  piling  into  the 
cars  for  the  surface  all  the  tons  and  tons  of  slimy  rock 
that  have  fallen  from  the  roof  and  rilled  the  passageways. 
Needless  to  say,  it  is  dangerous  work,  too,  the  timbers 
having  long  ago  been  rotted  and  destroyed.  It  certainly 
does  take  imagination  to  hold  your  safety-lamp  upon 
such  piles  of  evil-smelling  refuse,  and  see  again  the  move- 
ment of  well-filled  cars  along  the  roadways  or  hear  the 
vibrant  sound  of  the  shovel  as  the  miner  scrapes  up  the 
last  pound. 

In  spite  of  the  darkness,  certain  things  became  plainer 
than  ever  before.  One  of  these  is  how  the  sum  asked 
of  the  Germans  came  to  be  calculated.  For,  of  course, 
the  moving  of  every  pound  of  that  rank  debris  has  to  be 
paid  for  by  the  party  that  planned  and  executed  this 
awful  murder — definitely  and  coolly  in  the  attempt  to 
put  industrial  France  forever  out  of  the  running.  Losing 
wars  is  expensive  business,  especially  when  the  loser  takes 
so  much  trouble — so  much  organized  trouble — to  render 
damage.  I  saw,  to-day,  for  instance,  a  piece  of  board 
on  which  some  German  officer  had  kept  a  record,  doubt- 
less with  great  satisfaction,  of  the  constantly  rising  water 
on  his  different  monthly  inspections  throughout  nearly 
three  years,  ending  finally  with  a  sort  of  "O.  K.,"  when 
the  water  was  level  with  the  outside  ground ! 

I  can  believe  that  one  particular  bit  of  this  organized 


HATE  AND  HOPE  AT  HEROIC  LENS          65 

meanness  will  not,  perhaps,  be  paid  for  this  side  the  Judg- 
ment Seat.  M.  Elie  Reumaux  organized  the  Lens  Mining 
Company.  He  was  seventy-six  years  old,  or  thereabouts 
when  the  town  was  captured,  and  so  was  kept  a  prisoner. 
Pit  No.  13  had  been  named  for  him.  One  day  the  old 
gentleman  was  brought  out  by  his  captors  for  a  celebra- 
tion. Great  quantities  of  explosive  had  been  placed  ready 
in  the  shaft  and  throughout  the  various  parts  of  the  splen- 
did tipple  and  washery.  A  wire  connected  them  to  a 
button  in  the  grand  stand.  In  the  old  gentleman's  pres- 
ence and  before  his  eyes,  the  ceremonies  were  concluded 
with  the  pressing  of  that  button  and  the  blowing  of  his 
beloved  mine  to  smithereens ! 

That  explosion  suggested  itself  to-day  when  I  looked 
down  into  the  huge  crater  where  the  British  touched  off 
a  vast  mine  under  the  German  lines  just  outside  the  near- 
by village  of  Loos.  The  great  hole  is  being  preserved  as 
one  of  the  historic  spots  of  the  war.  From  its  rim  you 
can  see  Vimy  Ridge  and  Notre  Dame  de  Lorette,  names 
of  determination  and  death. 

I  wonder,  too,  who  will  ever  make  up  the  loss  such  as 
I  met  this  afternoon.  A  mere  shaver  of  a  lad  who  looked 
like,  say,  fourteen  insisted  that  he  is  eighteen.  To  my 
" Unbelievable!"  he  added  sadly  his,  "Yes,  that's  what 
everybody  says,  but  it's  true  all  the  same."  Finally  the 
explanation  came.  He  was  here  during  the  war.  He 
lived  in  one  cellar  or  another,  trying  somehow  to  get 
shelter  from  the  dreadful  shells  and  enough  food  to  keep 
his  sleepless  body  and  hopeless  little  soul  together.  Of 
course  his  schooling  stopped  when  he  was  ten.  He  is 
now  a  day-laborer,  poor  little  tike.  He  works  ten  hours 


66    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

at  the  place  where  the  brickbats  are  ground  up,  and, 
with  cement,  made  into  building  blocks.  He  earns  thir- 
teen francs — with  board  and  keep  hardly  less  than  eight. 
Food  is  said  to  be  nearly  twice  as  high  here  as  at  Paris. 

"We  French  believe  much  in  helping  the  little  things 
to  do  their  work.  We  always  use  lots  of  grease.  That 
protected  its  working  parts,"  said  the  engineer  of  a  pump 
down  in  one  of  the  galleries  this  morning.  It  still  pulls 
the  cars  of  coal  up  an  incline — after  nearly  three  years 
under  water. 

So  the  whole  district — including  the  youngsters  who 
were  gleaning  the  harvested  fields  this  afternoon — seems 
to  have  been  kept  going  by  the  grease  of  faith  or  patriot- 
ism or  love  of  home  or  something  that  has  saved  its  work- 
ing parts  from  destruction.  Anybody  who  needs  just 
that  kind  of  grease  will  do  well  to  buy  a  ticket  to  Lens — 
quickly,  before  the  dreadful  days  of  its  protective  virtue 
are  nothing  but  a  memory.  Certainly  it  is  hard  to  imag- 
ine a  city  so  demoralized  in  its  actuality  yet  so  devoted 
in  its  aspiration.  No  wonder  the  city  was  given  the  Croix 
de  Guerre  "as  a  model  of  heroism  and  patriotic  faith." 
Perhaps  such  nobilities  come  from  such  baptisms  of  fire. 

Listen !  Something  like  an  orchestra  is  playing  classical 
music — on  the  ruins  of  Lens  outside  my  barrack  window 
— on  the  undaunted  ruins  of  Lens !  What  can  it  mean  ? 

Later. — The  orchestra  proves  to  be  a  group  of  devoted 
souls  practising  in  a  near-by  estaminet.  The  wife  of  the 
landlord  there  says  she,  with  many  other  Frenchwomen, 
was  here  during  the  war  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  I 
take  off  my  hat  to  her,  as  well  as  to  Lens,  and  the 
pump: 


LITTLE   GLEANERS  IN  THE  FIELDS  NEAR  LENS 

They  are  typical  of  the  thrifty  spirit  of  France — also  of  the  hopefulness  of  the  new 
generation  now  in  possession  of  a  wider-margined  France 


"CERTAINLY  IT  IS  HARD  TO  IMAGINE  A  CITY  SO  DEMORALIZED  IN 
ITS  ACTUALITY  YET  SO  DEVOTED  IN  ITS  ASPIRATION  AS  LENS" 

Everywhere  the  new  and  modern  factory  is  rising  upon  the  ruins  of  the  old 


HATE  AND  HOPE  AT  HEROIC  LENS          67 

"For  six  days  and  nights,  m'sieu',  there  was  a  dreadful 
bombardment.  Brrr-boom-boom — every  minute  for  six 
days  and  six  nights  like  that.  Dreadful.  Still  we  French- 
women liked  it.  Yes,  it  is  as  I  say,  we  liked  it.  For  we 
said  each  to  the  other,  '  After  this  will  come  the  silence, 
and  then  the  attack.  After  that  they  will  be  here — our 
husbands,  our  sons ! '  Finally  it  stopped  and  we  waited 
through  several  days.  But  they  did  not  come.  No,  they 
did  not  come.  Oh,  it  was  dreadful,  m'sieu' !  The  attack, 
so  far  as  we  knew,  failed,  though  we  learned  afterward 
that  they  gained  Loos  and  got  still  nearer.  But  when 
they  did  not  come,  then  we  all  gave  up  hope.  Up  till 
then,  yes,  we  could  hope  in  spite  of  everything.  After 
that,  no.  'We  will  never  see  them  again/  we  said.  .  .  . 
And  yet,  here  is  my  husband  again  with  me — he  plays 
the  bass  viol  there.  Wonderful,  is  it  not?" 


CHAPTER 
BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS— AND  ABOVE 

A  mine  town  near  Lens, 

Wednesday, 

August  3d. 

AFTER  presenting  a  letter  of  introduction  and  a  request 
for  work  to  the  head  of  the  local  coal  concern,  there  was 
time  to  stroll  out  into  the  country  before  learning  my 
fate.  The  score  or  more  of  high  pit  towers  flanked  by 
their  huge  pyramids  of  refuse  make  a  picturesque  sight 
when  seen  across  miles  of  level  yellow  fields.  After  a 
long  loaf  at  the  bottom  of  one  of  the  numerous  great 
stacks  of  unthreshed  wheat,  an  English  sign  on  a  road- 
side inn  proved  attractive.  It  had  been  left  behind,  it 
seems,  by  some  of  the  Tommies  who  held  the  line  only  a 
mile  or  so  away  hi  the  direction  of  La  Bassee  and  Lens. 
Over  their  beer  a  hag  of  an  old  woman  with  a  bleary  eye 
and  a  masculine,  bearded  face,  was  telling  a  hunchbacked 
but  bright-eyed  little  woman — they  looked  like  creatures 
out  of  some  dreadful  book — how  she  had  seen  a  German 
shell  land  near  a  British  soldier. 

"But  yes !"  she  answered  when  I  asked  if  it  had  killed 
him.  "But  yes!  Like  this!"  And  she  made  a  move- 
ment of  scraping  fragments  together. 

"Turn  here  during  the  shelling  of  Monument"  (in 
the  main  square)  so  several  English  signs  still  direct  traffic 
in  the  town.  Many  buildings  show  that  the  shells  found 
their  mark.  Schools  practically  suspended  because  it 


BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS         69 

was  so  dangerous  to  let  the  children  out.  Nevertheless, 
most  of  the  town's  mines,  employing  10,000  men,  seem 
to  have  kept  turning  out  the  coal  so  badly  needed  by  the 
country.  Occasionally  it  was  found  wisest  to  operate 
them  only  at  night. 

Later  at  the  office,  the  company  kindly  offered  a  job 
below,  though  unable  to  pay  me.  It  seems  that  any  one 
working  "at  the  face"  has  to  be  in  a  particular  gang  or 
chantier  which  divides  up  its  tonnage  earnings  among  its 
members.  For  that  reason  the  men  have  a  right  to  choose 
then*  own  associates — after  knowing  how  they  work ! 

So  I'm  settled  now  in  a  miner's  boarding-house — to 
report  for  work  at  five  to-morrow  morning.  It  looks 
a  shade  worse  than  the  "Tout  Va  Bien."  Six  of  us  sleep 
in  one  room,  and  in  three  small  double  beds !  The  charge 
is  only  nine  francs,  but  from  here  it  looks  as  though  some- 
body owed  an  apology  to  that  much-maligned  single  bed 
and  room  there  at  Douai.  This  dining-room  here  is  not 
so  bad  as  last  week's,  but  does  give  out  onto  a  strong 
conglomeration  of  cows,  chickens,  rabbits,  wash-tubs, 
and  manure.  The  mixture  of  drizzle  with  the  smoke  of 
the  town's  coke-ovens  makes  the  whole  geography  appear 
a  dreary  salad.  The  occasional  street  hydrants  are  the 
most  popular  social  centres — a  bad  sign,  especially  when 
added  to  by  open  sewers.  Even  the  new  and  attractive 
houses,  evidently  built  by  the  company,  are  already  filled 
with  an  aggregation  of  chicken-coops,  rabbit-hutches, 
and  dove-cotes.  It  looks  like  a  population  sleeping  under 
very  narrow  sheets. 

However,  the  wife  and  manageress  of  the  establish- 
ment looks  good-natured  and  is  rather  pretty,  and  neither 


70    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

she  nor  her  fat  miner-husband  raise  their  voices  when 
they  speak  to  their  two  little  babies.  That  covers  a  multi- 
tude of  sins — even  sanitary  sins,  which,  in  a  "  manner  of 
speaking/ '  are  among  the  hardest  in  the  world  to  cover. 

I'll  know  more  after  a  go  at  supper.  Nobody  seems  in 
a  hurry  for  that  except  myself — it's  already  nearly  eight- 
thirty.  It  will  be  good  to  lay  down  even  the  weight  of  a 
pencil  after  carrying  a  heavy  bag  from  the  distant  station. 

Well,  dirt  or  no  dirt,  and  good  bedfellow  or  bad,  it 
ought  to  be  interesting  to-morrow  1,800  feet  down  "  in- 
side." 

Mine  town, 
Thursday  night. 

If  all  the  miners  hereabout  work  even  half  as  ener- 
getically as  our  gang  did  to-day,  it's  hats  off  and  no  mis- 
take !  Personally  I  took  it  a  bit  easier  in  between  loads 
in  view  of  the  no-pay  arrangement  as  "a  student  of 
French  mining  methods."  But  even  at  that  I  did  my 
full  share  of  loading  the  thirty  half-ton  cars  which  we 
sent  up,  and  which  the  group  evidently  thought  a  full 
day's  total.  My  back  is  willing  to  agree  with  them.  The 
others  hardly  paused  a  moment.  Stripped  to  the  waist, 
every  one  of  them  kept  going  unceasingly  with  his  back 
bent  over  his  shovel,  his  pick,  or  his  car. 

"  Always  like  this,  yes.  Oh,  no,  never  tired.  .  .  .  C'est 
V habitude,  trisieu'.  It's  habit — habit  and  custom  does 
it,"  so  the  gang  leader  explained.  Even  our  two  huge 
Poles — out  of  the  1,500  here — kept  going  splendidly. 
Both  of  them  are  newly  arrived  and  are  having  trouble 
with  French.  So  they  were  delighted  to  tell  their  troubles 
in  German: 


BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS         71 

"Always  for  six  years — yes,  seven — up  till  now,  nothing 
but  war  in  Poland.  And  no  way  to  earn  bread — except 
come  here.  And  here  contract  say  nineteen  francs  a 
day  and  we  get  only  sixteen/'  as  they  showed  me  their 
collections  of  shrapnel-scars  on  their  muscular  backs  and 
hairy  chests. 

At  nine  o'clock  we  had  a  half-hour  for  putting  on  our 
shirts  and  sitting  down  together  with  our  lamps  to  eat 
the  huge  cheese  or  pickle  sandwiches  out  of  our  sacks — 
we  had  to  hang  them  up  carefully  away  from  the  rats — 
and  drink  " coffee- water"  out  of  our  glass  bottles  or  tin 
flasks.  We  were  hardly  arrived  at  our  working  place 
before  six-fifteen.  First  we  had  to  get  our  lamps  and 
wait  our  turn  before  getting  into  the  cage  where  twenty- 
four  of  us  crowded  into  the  three  different  half-height 
stories  or  divisions.  Then  klumpety-klump  for  a  third 
of  a  mile  drop.  A  walk  from  the  " bottom"  through  the 
black  passages  took  us  more  than  a  mile  and  a  half.  Then, 
by  twelve-fifteen  or  twelve-twenty — after  a  second  go 
of  nearly  three  hours — it  was  time  to  start  back.  Some- 
how or  other  that  walk  back  to  the  bottom  always  proves 
about  as  trying  as  any  part  of  the  day — perhaps  because 
it  always  comes  immediately  after  the  strenuous  day's 
work.  It  is  especially  hard  here  because  we  have  to  climb 
up  several  hundred  feet  at  one  of  the  steep  inclines  or 
" descenderies"  before  we  can  begin  our  long  walk  on  the 
level  of  the  hoist's  bottom. 

Most  of  the  day  I  kept  wishing,  not  to  enjoy  a  " place 
in  the  sun"  up  outside  but,  oddly  enough,  just  to  have 
in  my  hands  a  good  American  shovel !  Those  used  here 
have  nothing  but  one  long  round  handle,  with  no  cross- 


72    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

grip  at  the  end.  So  the  beginner  has  to  use  much  of  his  grip 
simply  to  hold  rather  than  to  operate  his  load.  So  I'm  nurs- 
ing blisters  to-night,  including  the  biggest  on  the  side  of  my 
thumb.  Except  for  that  the  short  hours  of  actual  work — 
about  five  and  a  half  in  all — are  a  pleasure  to  think  of. 

As  back  in  America,  so  also  here,  it  is,  unfortunately, 
the  life  that  goes  with  these  hours  that  is  unpleasant. 

Can't  tell  much  about  my  bedfellow  because  I've  not 
yet  seen  him — he  came  to  bed  late  last  night,  and  was 
sleeping  hi  the  darkness  at  four-thirty  when  a  fellow 
miner  called  me.  But  whoever  he  is,  he  certainly  has 
an  active  disposition.  During  the  night  he  kept  con- 
tinually turning,  each  tune  sticking  knees  or  elbows  into 
my  back.  It  was  almost  a  relief  finally  to  get  up  and  into 
working  clothes.  Down-stairs  the  wife  was  grinding 
coffee  and  from  out  of  the  darkness,  thanks  to  the  flames 
of  the  freshly  lighted  stove,  showed  us  her  attractive 
eyes  and  teeth  hi  a  pleasant  though  somewhat  weary 
smile.  I'd  like  to  see  the  scene  painted,  for  it's  the  start 
of  the  working  day  here  just  as  the  Angelus  is  the  end. 
Breakfast  is  evidently  a  very  silent  affair — everybody 
sleepy  and  everywhere  darkness  except  for  the  black- 
golden  beams  from  the  stove.  As  before,  nothing  but  a 
small  cup  of  coffee  with  a  little  cognac  in  it. 

"Yes,  I  have  a  wife,  but  for  me  and  my  three  sons  she 
is  dead — yes,  quite  dead."  So,  on  the  way  to  the  tip, 
a  fellow  boarder  explained  how  his  mate  had  been  too 
friendly  with  the  Germans  during  the  near-by  invasion, 
and  has  since  had  to  spend  eighteen  months  in  a  hospital. 

"And  now — it's  still  a  secret,  but  I  can  tell  you, 
m'sieu'.  I  have  a  sweetheart.  Yes,  over  at  Bethune. 


BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS         73 

.  .  .  Divorce?  Yes,  maybe — but  that  costs  much 
money.  Perhaps  it's  not  necessary.  We  shall  see." 

Have  just  now  met  his  boy  of  nineteen,  a  mason's 
helper.  He  tells  of  his  three  years  as  a  civil  prisoner  in 
a  captured  town  to  the  northeast.  He  was  often  beaten 
with  a  great  stick  for  various  failures  to  salute  officers 
or  for  his  overzealous  efforts  to  secure  food. 

"But,  you  see,  we  could  often  perceive  the  Germans 
stealing  it  when  they  were  distributing  the  food  that 
came  from  you  Americans.  Oh,  yes,  that's  true,  I  assure 
you.  So  we  did  the  same  from  them  when  we  saw 
a  chance.  Often  and  often  our  supper  and  dinner  were 
nothing  but  a  pull  at  our  belts — yes,  like  this !  And  many 
died — when  they  were  too  weak  to  pull  their  belts.  Then 
it  was  to  dig  to  bury  them!  La,  la!  ...  My  mother? 
.  .  .  Ah,  she  is  dead,  too,  so  far  as  we  care.  Imagine 
it !  She  liked  these  beasts !  Dreadful,  is  it  not?" 

His  ambition  is  to  begin  his  military  service  next  year 
and  then  become  a  corporal  or  sergeant,  and  so  get 
" plenty  to  eat  without  too  much  to  work,"  until  he  is, 
say,  thirty-five.  He  says  the  English  and  American  boys 
gave  a  little  too  much  attention  to  the  Frenchwomen 
altogether  to  please  their  French  husbands  on  the  firing 
lines.  He  puts  a  good  deal  of  pepper  into  the  popular 
song  when  he  sings: 

"Apres  la  guerre  finie 
Et  les  Anglais  partis — " 

Here's  my  bedfellow!  He's  a  chum  of  the  boy  and 
was  a  prisoner,  too.  His  youth  explains  his  nocturnal 


74    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

energy,  doubtless  also  his  inattention  to  my  elbow  jabs 
against  his  pushing  me  into  the  wall.  Luckily  all  six  of 
us  in  the  room  retire  at  a  fairly  early  hour  and  are  not 
averse  to  a  certain  amount  of  ventilation.  Luckily,  too, 
the  sheets  are  comparatively  clean,  fairly  ample,  and, 
apparently,  not  otherwise  inhabited.  Still,  it's  not  very 
pleasant  to  think  of  going  down  in  a  few  minutes  to  the 
supper  of  bread  cut  from  the  loaf  by  our  pocket-knives, 
with  cheese  and  pickles  and  beer  from  off  the  slimy  table 
while  the  window  opens  onto  the  barnyard,  and  the  baby 
sits  on  the  floor  and  eats  from  the  same  dish  with  the  cat. 

In  spite  of  the  weariness  from  the  night's  knees  and 
elbows  and  the  day's  thirty  cars — also  the  unhappiness 
of  the  continued  dirt,  disorder,  and  nastiness  of  it  all — 
still,  I'm  enthusiastic  for  M'sieu'  Landlord.  He  is  one 
that  takes  his  hostly  responsibilities  seriously. 

When  we  reached  home  tired  and  grimy,  he  poured 
out  some  evidently  precious  hot  water  into  the  tubs  and 
buckets  in  the  shed  just  off  the  kitchen  and  gave  us  some 
soap,  wash-rags,  and  towels.  A  little  later  I  offered  to 
wash  the  back  of  my  buddy,  figuring  that  that  was  the 
best  way  to  take  care  of  my  own — in  line  with  ordinary 
mine-town  procedure  where  the  wife  has  to  promise  to 
"love,  honor,  and  obey,"  and  also  to  wash  her  husband's 
back !  To  my  surprise  he  waved  my  offer  aside: 

"No,  it  is  not  necessary.  Are  you  ready?  I  will  show 
you  something!" 

With  that  he  whistled.  To  my  amazement  in  came 
friend  landlord.  Without  a  word — after  all  his  years  of 
mining — he  took  up  soap  and  wash-rag  and  proceeded  to 
wash  and  then  to  wipe  the  backs  of  both  of  us ! 


BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS         75 

Greater  consideration  hath  no  landlord  in  all  the  world 
than  that ! 

Ah,  at  last !  There's  the  call  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
for  supper.  "Oui,  oui !  Tout  de  suite !  I  come !" 

Friday,  the  5th. 

This  entry  ought  to  start  with  " Caution!" 
The  high  explosive  of  "t.  'n.  t." — tiredness  and  temper 
— is  all  over  the  place  and  the  world  looks  black — after 
a  coal-black  day.  It  started  with  the  blackness  of  the 
night  filled  with  horrid  wakings  caused  by  some  enor- 
mous spiritual  pressure  to  scream !  Perhaps  that  came 
from  being  crowded  into  the  wall  by  those  active  knees. 
The  only  possible  way  out  appeared  to  be  to  take  my 
pillow  and  camp  out  on  the  floor.  But  no  bedclothes 
could  be  taken  without  base  injustice  to  my  soundly 
sleeping  bedfellow.  It  required  the  greatest  conceivable 
effort  at  self-control  to  abandon  one  plan  after  another 
and  finally — with  a  last  push  and  jab  at  my  companion 
—to  turn  over  and  fall  asleep — only  to  waken  soon  and 
go  through  it  all  again!  That  doesn't  put  a  fellow  out 
onto  the  bottom  of  a  coal-mine  at  five-thirty  in  any  very 
keen  mood  for  work — especially  for  work  the  most  dan- 
gerous and  grimy  of  any  encountered  to  date. 

On  the  way  to  a  new  " location,"  the  gang  of  us  went 
down  some  sharply  inclined  seams  that  were  only  eighteen 
inches  thick!  Furthermore,  they  had  been  bent  over 
so  far  by  some  great  convulsion  of  nature  that  they  were 
at  an  angle  of  fully  forty  degrees — also  upside  down! 
So  we  slid  down  past  the  workers  precisely  as  if  we  were 
on  a  glacier — in  actuality  sliding  on  the  coal  seam's  roof ! 


76    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

Finally,  we  came  to  a  hole  directly  under  us — a  vertical 
opening  in  which  a  sort  of  rough  scaffolding  had  been 
erected.  When  we  had  finally  worked  our  way  from  one 
timber  elevation  down  to  the  one  beneath — very  care- 
fully so  as  not  to  fall  or  drop  our  bottles  or  lights — we  at 
last  reached  a  level  passage  fully  one  hundred  feet  be- 
neath. Here,  to  my  amazement,  everybody  hung  up  his 
sandwich  bag  and  proceeded  to  take  off  his  coat  and  shirt. 
Still  worse,  I  had  to  follow  the  boss  and  the  others  as 
they  proceeded  to  climb  back  up  the  scaffolding  again  till 
we  were  almost  at  the  top.  There  we  calmly  started  to 
work !  The  scaffolding  was  nothing  but  the  cross  timbers 
for  holding  apart  the  roof  and  the  floor  after  the  coal  had 
been  taken  out  of  a  narrow  three-foot  vein  which  nature 
had  put  into  a  vertical  or  upright  position !  The  place 
is  called  "the  ladder."  Finally  we  got  some  planks  into 
a  position  to  make  a  sort  of  runway.  Whereupon  the 
miners  up  above  us  commenced  their  work,  their  coal 
falling  into  the  chute  and  descending  just  above  my  head. 
Unfortunately,  just  as  I  reached  up  to  move  a  plank 
over  to  keep  some  of  the  particles  from  falling  down  my 
neck,  a  great  piece  gave  two  of  my  fingers  a  bloody  and 
extremely  painful  bruise  that  will  probably  stay  by  me 
for  weeks,  if  not  for  months.  As  we  used  our  picks  on 
the  solid  coal  just  ahead  of  us,  I  could  look  up  and  see 
through  the  planks  a  gleam  of  light.  Always  I  got  to 
thinking  that  this  meant  daylight  up  there — out  through 
our  attic  roof.  Then  would  come  the  highly  disturbing 
thought  that  between  us  and  sunshine  were  nearly  2,000 
feet  of  the  same  coal  seam,  all  threatening,  except  for 
the  timbering  of  the  craftsmen  above  us,  to  slide  down 
upon  our  heads ! 


BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS         77 

Apparently  my  buddy  wasn't  bothered  much  by  the 
idea.  Except  when  he  was  inserting  his  timbers  as  rapidly 
as  he  got  his  coal  down,  he  kept  up  an  unceasing  swing 
of  his  pick.  Such  incessant  work  I  never  saw.  Every 
instant  the  stuff  kept  falling  before  his  attack  down  into 
the  darkness  seventy-five  feet  beneath  us.  From  down 
there  we  could  occasionally  hear  the  sound  of  the  boy 
filling  his  cars.  All  this  meant  an  amazing  amount  of 
dust.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  see  my  friend  four 
or  five  feet  away,  and  always  his  black  back  sent  gleams 
of  light  like  small  rivers  from  the  streams  of  sweat  finding 
their  way  down  through  the  grime.  His  lamp  looked  like 
a  lighthouse  through  the  heaviest  of  fogs. 

The  thought  of  letting  my  lamp  fall  to  see  what  would 
happen  fascinated  me.  The  bosses  had  explained  with 
unpleasant  iteration  how  to  be  very  careful  because  the 
vein  is  very  gassy.  Even  if  it  weren't,  the  coal-dust  must 
have  made  an  explosive  mixture  of  the  greatest  conceiv- 
able instability.  Evidently  this  upright  position  of  the 
seam  makes  the  ordinary  protection  of  ventilation  im- 
possible. So  far  as  I  could  figure  it,  a  pick  point  through 
the  mica  of  the  lamp  would  push  us  into  instantaneous 
Kingdom  Come — us  and  all  the  others  in  the  same  local- 
ity. Naturally  my  mind  seemed  to  run  continually  on 
the  sign  seen  each  morning  at  the  lamp  house: 

"In  view  of  the  recent  disaster  in  ,  a  few  miles 

away,  which  resulted  in  the  death  of  forty  workers,  the 
management  prays  every  miner  here  to  exert  the  utmost 
care  in  the  interest  of  the  security  of  life  .  .  .,"  etc. 

Not  so  very  long  ago,  too,  1,400  men  were  entombed 
for  twenty-one  days — with,  luckily,  most  of  them  saved. 
With  such  things  in  mind  and  the  dust  in  my  eyes  and 


78    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

nose,  it  was  impossible  not  to  turn  again  and  again  to 
look  at  my  lamp  and  the  distance  of  my  pick  stroke  from 
it,  adding  meanwhile  what  was  perhaps  more  a  prayer 
than  a  statement: 

"Well,  I'd  like  to  assure  the  company  that  in  their 
prayer  they  have  my  personal  co-operation  100  per  cent ! 
— in  fact,  if  desired,  I'd  be  willing  to  take  my  assurance 
up  to  the  office  right  this  minute ! " 

At  breakfast  all  the  members  of  the  gang  expressed 
their  preference  for  government  control  as  the  only  con- 
ceivable buffer  against  the  selfishness  of  "les  patrons": 

"You  see,  we're  too  much  at  their  mercy.  When  they 
don't  want  us  to  work  we  can't.  And  when  we  do  work 
it  must  always  be  at  their  price." 

Still  they  have  little  sympathy,  apparently,  for  the 
miners'  and  other  unions.  Two  strikes  here  have  recently 
been  unsuccessful — in  addition  to  the  unfortunate  general 
strike  of  a  year  ago  last  May. 

"No,  it  is  bad  leadership  that  we  suffer  from.  We've 
struck  and  struck  again.  Still  we've  never  touched  a  sou 
from  it  all.  For  why?  Well,  no  one  knows.  And  in  the 
general  strike  of  1920  the  railway  men — the  ones  we  were 
supposed  to  be  helping,  you  understand? — they  kept  on 
working  themselves !  And  we — we  lost  our  wages !  What 
do  you  make  of  that?" 

They  are  evidently  bewildered — they  hardly  know 
what  to  try  next.  They  would  hardly  be  averse,  I  be- 
lieve, to  some  moderate  compromise  which  would  give 
a  little  more  guarantee  that  their  continuous  need  of 
bread  and  butter,  and  a  little  cake,  would  be  more  sym- 
pathetically and  more  regularly  taken  care  of.  They 


BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS         79 

certainly  have  few  of  the  marks  of  honest-to-goodness 
radicals.  They  all  think  of  the  good  old  days  when  a 
man  got  seven  francs  a  day  and  had  more  left — at  least 
as  they  now  remember  it — than  now.  To-day  they  get 
from  twenty-two  to  twenty-five  and  twenty-six  but  they 
pay  nearly  half  just  for  bed  and  bread  and  butter.  When 
everything  else  is  high,  that's  a  pretty  heavy  proportion 
of  the  day  gone  before  you  can  begin  to  do  more  than 
just  exist — it  leaves  one,  so  to  speak,  bedded  and  boarded 
but  still  undressed. 

To-day  I  didn't  work  anything  like  as  hard  as  the 
others,  but  was  nevertheless  dog-tired  when  I  finally 
reached  home  and  got  my  shirt  off.  Then  a  fresh  job — 
a  really  hard  job — began.  I  was  as  black  as  an  African. 
Scrubbing  and  scrubbing  seemed  to  do  little  good  even 
though  the  coarse  soap  was  very  painful  to  the  eyes. 
Each  time  I  would  think  to  pass  on  to  some  other  por- 
tion of  my  work,  my  pal  would  laugh  and  suggest  that 
I  take  a  look  into  the  broken  mirror.  Alas,  it  was  all 
too  evident.  Still  harder  scrubbing.  After  a  good  half- 
hour  of  it,  I  wanted  to  sit  down  and  curse  or  cry — shame 
though  it  is  to  confess  the  desire  for  either  of  these  forms 
of  relief. 

Of  all  that  work  and  dirt  down  below,  it  is  easy  to  see 
the  necessity,  if  furnaces  are  to  be  fed,  trains  run,  ore 
melted  and  people  warmed.  But  it  does  seem  pretty  nearly 
needless  that  after  a  man  has  done  that  work,  he  should 
have  to  come  back  to  such  dreadful  surroundings  as  here. 
Perhaps  he  wouldn't,  except  for  the  war.  Just  before  it 
began,  so  they  say  here,  arrangements  had  been  made 
for  installing  mine  baths.  The  peace  has  furnished  too 


80    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

many  other  things  to  think  about.  In  all  the  mines  over 
at  Lens  the  baths  were  in  fine  order  before  the  invaders 
came — besides  all  sorts  of  such  arrangements  as  cook- 
ing schools,  nursing,  pensions,  etc. 

But  here,  and  now — at  our  little  estaminet — well,  I 
do  have  a  soft  spot  for  our  fat  and  stolid  landlord  because 
he  doesn't  scold  his  wife  or  his  children  and  does  wash 
my  back.  But  to-day,  at  least,  he  and  all  his  works  seem 
just  outrageously  dirty.  I  don't  feel  equal  to  describing 
them  properly — too  tired.  The  nastiness  of  it  all  requires 
something  more  than  just  prose.  I  wonder  if  a  Walt 
Whitman,  for  instance,  could  come  home,  tired  to  the 
bone,  and  then  manage  to  see  anything  beautiful  in  such 
conditions.  If  he  wrote  with  his  shoulders  aching  from 
working  and  then  from  scrubbing  to  get  clean — with 
hands  blistered  by  those  dreadful,  awkward  shovels — I 
wonder  if  he  could  avoid  getting  off  something  like  this: 

"I  see  before  me  my  plate  of  greasy  soup 
And  the  unwashed  spoon 
On  the  slippery  table  (never  again  any  more  of  this  soup 

1  Printanniere '  for  me — as  long  as  I  live !) . 
And  from  the  open  window  I  catch  the  aroma 
Of  the  nearness  of  the  chickens,  the  rabbits,  the  pigeons 
And  the  mildly  protesting  cow. 
Yes,  I  see  before  me  the  primordial  chaos: 
The  cataclysmic  conglomeration  of  things  worn  out  or  about 

to  be: 

The  half-filled  tubs  of  blue-blackish  suds  from  miners'  backs, 
The  decrepit,  toothless  and  discouraged  scrubbing  brushes, 
The  empty  wine  bottles,  prostrate  in  their  sad,  repentent 

uselessness. 
In  the  manure  half  overwhelmed  they  lie, 


BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS         81 

Like  things  dead,  yet  alive;   gray  ghosts  of  former  services. 

The  broken  dishes  still  begging  to  help 

By  holding  a  bit  of  soap  or  the  shells  of  eggs, 

The  half-split  sabots  and  the  broken  mattock, 

Evidence  of  the  landlord's  strength  (I  wish  he'd  use  it  trying 
to  clean  up  a  bit !) . 

And  then  let  one  observe  the  rabbits — how  calmly  they  fold 
their  legs  under  them  and, 

Noses  wiggling,  ruminate  philosophically  on  the  litter  of  cab- 
bage leaves  beneath  the  rusty  and  half-fallen  stove. 

And  the  chickens !  Ah,  now  do  I  behold  one  roosting  peace- 
fully upon  the  chair  and  yes,  by  my  soul,  upon  my  towel ! 

(Oh,  hang  it  all,  this  is  too  much !  Why  should  I  stand  for 
it  another  day !)" 

And  so  on — possibly  ad  infinitum,  certainly  ad  nauseam. 

As  long  as  it  is  necessary  to  do  it  another  day,  I  guess 
I'll  enjoy  my  most  pleasurable  indoor  sport — namely, 
the  study  of  the  time-table  to  see  precisely  when  I  can 
get  away. 

Doubtless  I  ought  to  be  thankful  that  there  is  some 
place  else  to  go.  Yesterday  evening  the  interpreter  for 
the  Polish  laborers  here  reported  that  they  are  all  very 
unhappy  and  consider  themselves  badly  treated,  but 
can't  go  back  to  Poland  because  there's  nothing  but  idle- 
ness and  war  there.  They  don't  earn  enough  here  to 
bring  their  wives.  On  pay-day — every  two  weeks — the 
conditions,  he  says,  are  frightful  over  at  the  barracks, 
with  the  help  of  much  alcohol  and  a  few  Polish  women 
who  stay  under  pretense  of  being  servants.  When  he 
makes  complaints  he  finds  nobody  authorized  to  pay 
any  attention.  Still  worse,  he  sees  no  way  out  for  him- 
self: 


82    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

"My  uncle  in  America — rich.  When  I  write  him — no 
answer  come.  Farm — beeg  farm  he  got — in  Jowa 
(Iowa)." 

Still  it  must  be  granted  that  he's  hopeful,  for  he  con- 
fided that  he  has  just  discovered  the  secret  of  perpetual 
motion.  All  it  needs  to  make  it  go  and  keep  it  going, 
he  says,  is  "a  little  more  force — just  a  little  more  force." 

We're  not  the  only  unlucky  ones.  Two  workers  in 
near-by  towns  are  reported  killed  yesterday  by  putting 
their  picks  into  unexploded  German  shells.  A  little  baby 
also  was  sent  out  of  the  world  by  coming  upon  an  old 
German  rifle.  A  drunken  man  appears  to  have  gone  to 
sleep  on  the  railroad  tracks — with  the  usual  result. 

Unlike  these  poor  fellows,  I  know  there  is  always  for 
me  a  means  of  retreat  to  higher  ground  and  more  com- 
fortable. So  I'll  stay  a  little  longer — perhaps  it  may 
somehow,  some  day,  be  of  value  to  them  all.  Anyway, 
it  would  help  a  lot  if  I  could  take  a  nap,  as  do  my  com- 
panions. It's  too  bad  the  afternoon  flies  here  on  the 
bed  make  that  just  as  difficult  as  does  my  nocturnal  bed- 
fellow. 

The  Coal  Town, 
Saturday. 

"No  ventilation  here,"  a  new  boss  explained  this 
morning  as  he  took  me  off  with  him  on  a  long  walk  from 
the  bottom  into  an  old  section  of  the  mine  for  a  day  of 
work  "in  rock."  "No  air  at  all.  That's  why  all  these 
timbers  here  have  this  white  beard  of  clammy  fuzz.  See 
here!  Yes,  it's  all  rotting,  and  that's  the  wood  rotting 
that  should  support  the  roof  above  our  heads.  It  is  not 
safe." 


BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS         83 

Still  farther  on  he  held  up  his  lantern  to  show  a  great 
gash  from  which  rock  had  fallen — it  yawned  ominously 
a  full  twenty  feet  or  more  above  us. 

"Very  dangerous,  very!"  he  said  and  shook  his  head 
after  listening  carefully  for  a  moment. 

I  was  willing  to  check  with  him  completely:  it  cer- 
tainly looked  unsafe.  So  I  moved  along  to  indicate  that 
I  was  satisfied  and  ready  to  get  to  some  other  equally 
interesting  place — and  safer.  To  my  dismay  he  calmly 
took  off  his  coat  and  showed  me  where  to  hang  mine! 
When  he  went  back  for  another  timber  his  partner  came 
up,  went  through  the  same  head-shaking  and  opining 
of  " Highly  dangerous,  highly  dangerous!"  Of  course 
there  was  nothing  to  it  but  to  take  it  calmly  and  roll  up 
my  sleeves.  When  we  had  got  our  shovels  busy  clearing 
up  a  place  for  building  a  stone  wall,  he  would  frequently 
stop  and  listen.  Several  times  the  crackling  of  the  mass 
of  loose  stones  was  enough  to  make  him  jump  back  to 
the  cover  of  the  strongest  timbers — with  me  only  a 
shadow  behind  him.  I  have  been  in  various  places  which 
looked  worse  to  me.  But  I  never  saw  miners  themselves 
take  a  place  quite  so  seriously.  It  was  not  pleasant.  In 
addition,  the  work  itself  was  in  the  nastiest  mud  and 
water,  shovelling  fallen  stone  away  or  bringing  up  fresh 
timbers.  Worse  still,  it  was  obvious  to  eyes  and  nose 
that  the  chamber  was  very  gassy.  So  it  looked  like  a 
long  and  dreary,  as  well  as  a  deadly  dangerous  day. 
Luckily,  before  nine  o'clock  a  big  boss  came  along  and 
I  jumped  at  his  invitation  to  go  with  him  on  his  inspec- 
tion trip. 

He  covered  an  amazing  amount  of  territory — walking 


84    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

rapidly  into  the  wall  of  darkness.  One  gang  was  work- 
ing in  the  dusty  din  and  clatter  of  the  air-drills,  hard  at 
work  pushing  a  new  entry  on  through  solid  rock.  He  took 
a  good  look  at  the  roof  above  them  and  then  proceeded 
to  pick  down  a  half  ton  or  so  of  loose  stone  that  had  hung 
almost  ready  to  fall — scolding  them  for  their  carelessness. 
Later  it  took  all  my  strength  and  skill  to  climb  after  him 
up  several  of  those  sharply  inclined  eighteen-inch  or  two- 
foot  veins.  We  had  to  squirm  our  way,  not  on  hands 
and  knees,  but  on  stomach  and  arms  and  toes.  Even 
then  the  roof — or  floor  above  us,  because  many  veins 
were  upside  down,  would  somehow  contrive  continually 
to  get  into  the  small  of  my  back.  In  order  to  make  the 
roof  or  the  bottom  safe,  and  also  to  get  a  little  more  room, 
the  miners  clean  out  several  inches  of  stone.  But  even 
that  does  not  prevent  the  men  whom  we  saw  lying  on 
their  sides  or  crouched  low  between  roof  and  floor,  from 
keeping  their  picks  going  everlastingly  for  the  full  work- 
ing day.  The  strange  thing  is  to  see  how  quickly  you 
come  to  share  with  them  their  freedom  from  the  tender- 
foot's fear  of  the  roof's  crushing  their  slender  little  wooden 
supports  and  falling  in  upon  them  with  its  weight  of  hun- 
dreds of  feet  of  solid  earth. 

In  many  places  not  even  the  boy  loader  can  stand 
upright  at  the  bottom  of  the  incline.  Several  lads  kept 
running  every  blessed  minute,  pushing  out  their  cars 
through  passages  hardly  higher  than  the  car's  top — some- 
times for  long  distances.  After  stooping  for  rods  and 
rods  through  some  of  these  places,  the  finest  thing  in  the 
world  appears  to  be  just  to  get  to  a  place  where  you  can 
stand  upright!  Many  of  the  boys  appear  undersized 


BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS         85 

even  for  their  fourteen  or  fifteen  years.  They  must  be 
strong  or  else  suffer  severe  strain.  It  must  be  said,  how- 
ever, that  a  great  deal  more  care  is  evidently  given  to 
lessening  this  strain  by  means  of  the  up-keep  of  the  cars 
and  the  levelling  of  the  tracks  than  I  have  seen  in  Amer- 
ica where  car-pushing  is  a  frequent  cause  of  complaint. 

Well,  I  suppose  it's  these  initial  years  of  " charging" 
(loading)  and  pushing  these  cars  under  the  low  roofs 
out  to  where  the  horses  can  come,  that  make  these  boys 
glad,  later,  to  spend  their  hours  pick  in  hand,  crouched 
in  those  narrow  inches  between  roof  and  floor.  "C'est 
V habitude."  That's  doubtless  their  answer — or  alibi — 
for  not  being  farmers,  for  instance.  That  is  doubtless, 
also,  the  reason  the  world  gets  as  much  coal  as  it  does — 
that  and  the  fact  that  a  man  earns  more  to  get  down  a 
ton  of  this  " narrow"  coal  than  in  a  larger  seam.  (That 
does  not  necessarily  mean  that  he  earns  more  in  a  day's 
work.) 

Speaking  of  "habitude,"  they  say  that  several  of  the 
horses  showed  themselves  not  long  ago  the  victims  of  it. 
During  the  last  strike  they  were  all  taken  up  and  quar- 
tered on  a  farm.  One  of  them  that  had  for  years  hauled 
its  cars  out  to  the  " parting"  or  switch,  six  times  a  day, 
absolutely  refused  to  make  more  than  six  trips  with  the 
plough  across  the  field.  Another  that  had  had  a  shorter 
mine  "trip"  refused  to  go  anywhere  farther  than  its  ac- 
customed distance  of  fifty  yards  without  turning  around ! 

Even  the  girls  in  the  district  appear  to  form  in  early 
years  the  same  "habitude"  of  hard  horny-handed  work. 
They  don't  come  underground  but  most  of  the  pushing 
and  emptying  of  the  cars  on  the  tip  is  done  by  them  and 


86    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

by  still  smaller  boys.  Other  girls  are  seen  carrying  heavy 
logs  or  unloading  with  their  long  shovels  cars  of  sand 
or  lime.  A  shortage  of  labor  surely  exists  in  the  district. 
Of  the  foreign  workers  the  biggest  percentage  is  said  to 
be  Belgian.  After  that  come  Italians,  Poles,  Czecko- 
Slovaks,  Spaniards,  Greeks,  etc.  Of  course  the  numerous 
Moroccans  and  Algerians  or  French  colonists  are  hardly 
spoken  of  as  foreign.  All  these  outsiders — as  in  America 
— seem  to  be  lorded  over  a  good  deal  by  their  native-born 
fellow  workers.  They  probably  all  help,  too,  to  lower 
still  further  the  level  of  the  local  patois.  "Id"  (here) 
is  generally  "tiki,"  "moi"  (me)  is  "ma,"  "toi"  is  "tee." 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  learn  that  a  new  engineer  here 
found  it  impossible  to  understand  these  workers  when 
he  first  arrived,  even  though  he  was  a  Frenchman ! 

In  spite  of  a  fairly  quiet  French  industry  as  a  whole, 
there  seems  still  to  be  plenty  of  demand  for  miners,  prob- 
ably because  France  always  has  used  at  least  20,000,000 
tons  yearly  more  than  she  produces.  A  soldier  boy  says 
he  has  had  no  trouble  getting  a  promise  of  work  as  soon 
as  he  finishes  his  army  service  next  month : 

"  No,  I  don't  love  being  soldier.  Not  at  all.  .  .  .  Well, 
for  one  thing,  the  food.  .  .  .  Yes,  it's  good — what  one 
gets.  But  not  enough  of  it." 

The  labor  shortage  is  not  enough,  apparently  to  make 
much  of  a  conquest  over  the  ubiquitous  high  cost  of  liv- 
ing. The  workers  generally  are  far  from  happy.  They 
sigh  for  the  good  old  days.  They  seem  hesitant  about 
the  company's  new  houses  at  three  to  five  francs  per 
room  per  month.  They  want  to  know  the  wages  and 
living  costs  of  America — with  only  a  hazy  idea  of  any 


FELLOW-WORKERS  IN  THE  COAL  PIT  NEAR  LENS 


EVEN   THE  YOUNG   GIRLS  IN   THE    DISTRICT  APPEAR   TO    FORM   IN 
EARLY  YEARS  THE   SAME   "HABITUDE"  OF  HARD,  HORNY- 
HANDED  WORK 

They  don't  come  under  ground,  but  most  of  the  pushing  and  emptying  of  the  cars  on 
the  tip  is  done  by  them  and  by  still  younger  boys 


BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS         87 

difference  between  the  American  of  the  North  and  of  the 
South,  or,  say,  Argentinian  varieties.  If  they  have  a 
friend  in,  for  instance,  "Co-awl-gawt,"  and  you  don't 
understand  their  pronunciation  of  Colgate,  you  can  see 
that  they  think  you're  an  impostor ! 

Here  at  the  boarding-house,  the  landlord  has  evidently 
been  busy.  The  place  looks  much  cleaner,  thanks  be! 
The  prospects  are  hardly  good,  however,  for  his  efforts 
lasting  long,  with  the  dogs,  chickens,  and  rabbits  con- 
tinuing to  enjoy  "the  freedom  of  the  city."  This  after- 
noon a  frightened  chicken  with  a  huge  clutter  and  com- 
motion suddenly  flew  into  the  window  and  almost  into 
the  face  of  the  wife  as  she  nursed  the  baby  at  her  generous 
bosom.  The  child  cried  out  in  fear  but  the  easy-going 
mother  only  shouted  with  laughter. 

I  have  just  told  her  I  must  get  some  sleep  somehow — 
after  the  worst  night  yet  with  my  dancing  bedfellow.  So 
I've  played  my  last  game  of  "flechette" — its  small  arrows 
and  target  are  found  in  every  estaminet  in  the  region, 
and  that's  saying  a  great  deal  because  the  small  fee  for 
an  alcohol  license  appears  to  favor  a  bar  in  hundreds  of 
homes.  Am  packed  and  ready  to  move  on  to  the  bigger 
town  of  Bethune,  about  three  miles  away. 

My  chum  just  now  breaks  in  to  say  that  he's  walking 
over  there  to  see  his  sweetheart — his  wife  it  is  that's  in 
the  hospital. 

"Yes,  perhaps,"  he  shrugs  his  shoulders  when  I  speak 
of  the  energy  and  enthusiasm  of  his  boy.  "But  I'm  afraid 
he'll  not  amount  to  much.  Have  you  not  noticed  his 
eye?  Is  it  not  the  eye  of  a  fox?  Yes.  You  see,  he's 
had  bad  education.  Instead  of  being  in  school,  he  spent 


88    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

his  years  as  a  prisoner — stealing  from  his  captors  is  very 
bad  for  a  boy  when  he's  thirteen,  is  it  not  so?" 

Have  just  been  to  thank  the  company  official  who 
furnished  the  job.  He  feels  sure  that  his  miners  at  home 
— not  at  an  estaminet — are  quite  cleanly.  The  town  ap- 
pears to  me  to  give  small  evidence  of  it.  He  feels,  too, 
that  in  general  the  spirit  of  his  men  is  good.  Peaceful, 
I'd  say,  but  hardly  good.  They  speak  too  often  of  the 
driving  necessity  of  work,  with  starvation  in  the  offing 
if  they  don't. 

Meanwhile,  the  Communist  musicians  in  a  French 
town  are  reported  to  have  spoiled  the  party  at  an  after- 
noon "f$te  gymnastique"  by  refusing  to  play  the  Mar- 
seillaise— "because  it  has  been  too  much  taken  over  by 
the  conservative  bourgeoisie!" 

How  times  do  change — with  the  old  one-time  radicals 
suddenly  finding  themselves  tail-enders  in  the  proces- 
sion! 

Meanwhile,  too,  the  Communist  paper,  UHumanite 
blames  the  whole  Russian  famine  on  to  the  present  world- 
wide dry  spell!  It  is  to  be  noted,  however,  that  a  con- 
servative Socialist  up  at  the  Lille  convention  of  the  "C. 
G.  T."  makes  his  stand  for:  "  Re  volution,  yes,  but  for 
a  progressive  revolution,  a  revolution  by  full  stomachs, 
not  empty  ones,  as  in  Russia." 

"I  am  not,"  still  another  announces,  "I  am  not  for 
dissociating  the  interests  of  the  working  class  from  the 
interests  of  society  as  a  whole.  Whether  we  like  to  admit 
it  or  not,  the  two  are  inseparably  bound  up  together.  I 
insist  simply  that  at  present  we  must  not  retreat.  That 
is  the  first  condition  of  advancing." 


BELOW  GROUND  WITH  THE  MINERS         89 

After  the  nights  of  poor  sleep,  the  mornings  of  black 
and  dangerous  work,  and  the  afternoons  of  filth,  fatigue, 
and  discomfort,  I'll  say  that  that's  as  much  good  sense 
as  could  be  expected  of  any  worker  in  the  land. 


CHAPTER  VI 
OTHER  VICTIMS  OF  A  NEW  KIND  OF  WAR 

Bethune, 
Pas  de  Calais, 
Sunday,  Aug.  7. 

A  GOOD  night's  sleep  in  a  whole  bed — a  whole  bed  and 
a  clean  one — a  tasty  breakfast  on  a  fairly  clean  table- 
cloth, more  sleep,  a  wondrous  dinner,  a  walk,  and  still 
more  sleep.  "Ah,  but  how  all  that  is  marvellous,"  as 
we  French  say,  for  one's  body  and  mind  and  soul ! 

As  the  centre  of  the  British  sector,  the  town  here  has 
been  badly  shot  up,  especially  near  the  main  square. 
Comparatively  little,  also,  appears  to  have  been  done  to 
put  things  back  into  shape,  though  a  number  of  builders 
are  breaking  the  Sabbath  with  their  plastering.  The 
English  evidently  send  a  constant  stream  of  visitors  to 
their  honored  dead  hi  the  near-by  cemetery.  All  signs 
make  it  evident  that  the  population  here  has  been  con- 
siderably more  prosperous  than  at  Douai,  for  example. 
In  fact  a  very  imposing  show  was  given  this  afternoon 
by  the  gentlemen  of  the  district  who,  in  their  red  coats, 
jumped  their  handsome  and  expensive  horses  over  various 
gates,  hedges,  water-hazards,  etc.  This  evening  a  grand 
ball  and  fete  with  a  prize  gymnastic  troupe  is  under  way, 
with  plenty  of  colored  lights  and  music  hi  the  very  at- 
tractive city  garden.  A  number^of  drunken  soldiers  and 
laborers,  with  much  barroom  singing,  provide  an  un- 
fortunate by-product  of  the  festivity. 

90 


OTHER  VICTIMS  OF  A  NEW  KIND  OF  WAR    91 

Everybody  that  tries  to  be  anybody  here  in  North 
France  seems  to  think  it  necessary  to  lead  something  of 
a  canine  nature  at  the  end  of  a  string  on  Sunday  after- 
noon or  evening.  Most  of  these  exhibitions  appear  to 
be  puppies  of  fox-terrier  or  similar  breed.  The  aristocrats, 
of  course,  have  police-dogs — "chiens  du  defense"  At 
a  private  club  I  saw  these  being  trained  to  attack  sus- 
picious characters  at  the  word  of  command.  A  man  in 
heavily  padded  and  disreputable-looking  clothes  was  sub- 
mitting to  their  bitings  and  snappings  for  the  sake  of 
their  education.  He  probably  gets  two  francs,  possibly 
three,  per  hour.  That's  my  idea  of  a  poor  job ! 

Such  things  as  this  training  of  " defense"  dogs  remind 
one  at  every  turn  of  the  war  that  is  past.  Unfortunately 
they  also  suggest  unpleasantly  the  thought  of  war  to 
come.  People  don't  seem  to  be  able  to  get  back  very 
quickly  to  entirely  peaceful  ways  after  living  for  years 
so  close  to  daily  misery,  fear,  and  death.  That  is  doubt- 
less one  reason  for  the  unexampled  number  of  train  rob- 
beries and  murders  which  are  causing  wide-spread  alarm 
all  over  France.  That  war  baby  known  as  the  high  cost 
of  living  is  doubtless  behind  the  smaller  robberies  and 
misdemeanors  which  fill  the  papers. 

Altogether,  it  looks  as  though  the  people  of  France — 
up  here  in  the  north  at  least — have  been  wounded  much 
more  deeply  than  we  outsiders  have  been  able  to  ap- 
preciate. It  is  not  simply  that  fathers  have  been  killed, 
with  families  bereaved  and  put  into  poverty.  That  is 
bad  enough.  In  addition,  other  families  in  great  number 
have  been  broken  up  by  the  pressure  of  the  abnormal 
personal  and  domestic  relationships  of  the  war  period. 


92    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

Every  newspaper  now  contains — in  addition  to  the  pre- 
posterous promises  regarding  remedies  which  we  have 
driven  out  from  our  respectable  columns — numerous 
advertisements  of  lawyers  ready  to  secure  divorces  at  a 
minimum  outlay  of  tune  and  money.  Still  other  persons, 
young  and  old,  have  been  given  the  abnormal  attitudes 
and  view-points  sure  to  follow  the  years  of  prison  or  semi- 
prison  regime — attitudes  and  view-points  which  will  not 
fail  to  affect  them  quite  unconsciously  all  the  rest  of  their 
lives.  The  papers  also  tell  of  hundreds  now  or  lately 
under  trial  for  giving  intelligence  to  the  enemy  or  of  being, 
in  other  ways,  traitorously  overfriendly  with  them. 

Of  course,  this  country  here  is  not  the  normal  France: 
it  is  devastated  or  invaded  France.  It  is  surprising  to 
see  how  close  its  interests  are  tied  up  not  only  with  the 
rest  of  France  but  with  Belgium,  and,  in  a  way,  also, 
with  Germany.  The  maps  show  almost  indiscernible 
boundary-lines  and  the  newspapers  and  especially  the 
trade  papers,  appear  to  pay  the  frontiers  slight  attention. 
Unskilled  Belgian  workers  go  back  and  forth  between 
this  district  and  their  homes  all  the  tune.  This  is  all 
very  different  from  those  days  of  sightseeing  travel 
when  we  used  to  take  boundaries  very  seriously:  they 
meant  changing  trains,  passing  customs  inspections, 
changing  to  new  money,  getting  out  fresh  guide-books, 
etc.,  etc.  Evidently  Belgium  is  too  much  like  France  in 
language,  money,  and  industry  to  make  people  here  feel 
that  way  about  it.  Indeed,  the  threads  of  the  cotton 
trade  of  this  whole  district  a  few  miles  to  the  north,  seem 
to  tie  it  up  not  only  with  Belgium  but  with  America  as 
well. 


OTHER  VICTIMS  OF  A  NEW  KIND  OF  WAR    93 

"In  cotton,"  according  to  an  industrial  weekly  pub- 
lished at  Lille,  "the  event  of  the  week  has  been  the  re- 
port of  the  Bureau  of  Agriculture  at  Washington,  stating 
the  condition  of  the  harvest.  The  figure  given  has  sur- 
prised the  market  and  the  prices  have  gone  to  higher 
levels  which  have  had  a  distinctly  unfavorable  reper- 
cussion on  the  progress  of  (cotton)  affairs  here." 

By  the  same  token  we  will  probably  have  some  "re- 
percussions" in  America  from  the  long-standing  strike 
of  the  cotton  employees  here  in  the  region  and  from  that 
of  the  weavers  which  is  expected  shortly.  Both  are  ef- 
forts to  side-step  any  reduction  of  wages  in  the  belief 
that  the  cost  of  living  has  not  gone  down  to  the  extent 
claimed  by  the  official  figures  of  the  State.  Undoubtedly, 
too,  America  is  interested  in  the  report  that  the  repre- 
sentatives of  France  to  the  coming  conference  of  the 
League  of  Nations  have  been  instructed  to  oppose  the 
present  efforts  to  make  universal  in  France  the  eight- 
hour  day.  The  report's  appearance  in  an  article  on 
"France's  Political  Outlook"  indicates  how  such  matters 
come  to  be  in  the  forefront  here  not  only  of  industrial 
but  of  political  thought.  The  statement  continues  to 
the  effect  that  France  has  still  so  much  work  to  do  in 
order  to  catch  up  with  the  rest  of  the  world  that  it  should 
not  be  compelled  to  compete  on  an  eight-hour  basis  with 
a  Germany  reported  to  be  working  generally  ten  to  twelve 
hours. 

Yes,  it  looks  as  though  the  editor  of  Le  Nord  Industriel 
has  everything  on  his  side  when  he  goes  so  far  as  to  say: 

"To  all  economic  activity  you  can  apply  the  theory 
of  communicating  chambers — a  change  of  levels  in  one 


94    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

country  immediately  produces  a  proportionate  effect 
upon  the  levels  in  other  countries." 

The  chances  are  that  the  war  has  made  exactly  that 
not  only  more  widely  true  and  more  broadly  compelling, 
but  also  more  manifest  and  obvious — so  much  so  as  to 
require  no  longer  the  eyes  only  of  the  professional  econ- 
omist. In  that  case  it  may  prove  a  vital  force  for  bring- 
ing together  the  nations  on  the  basis  of  mutual  economic 
interests.  One  of  the  most  reassuring  activities  now 
visible  on  the  international  horizon  here  is  the  way 
Loucheur  for  France  and  Rathenau  for  Germany  appear 
to  be  agreeing  upon  a  practical  basis  of  paying  repara- 
tions in  materials  rather  than  in  money.  What  is  most 
significant  is  that  these  gentlemen  are  the  representa- 
tives, one  in  France  and  one  in  Germany,  of  the  General 
Electric  Company  of  the  U.  S.  A. ! 

All  of  which  is  a  highly  gratifying  thought  to  take  to 
bed  hi  the  midst  of  scores  of  Bethune's  ruined  houses. 

P.  S. — Even  the  bill-boards  help  to  give  the  impression 
which  appears  to  explain  a  great  deal  about  this  people, 
namely  that  it  is  an  elderly  and  long-established  concern. 
To-day  a  large  building  bore  the  notice  "The  Mayor 
hereby  decrees  that  refuse  must  not  be  deposited  here — 
by  virtue  of  the  law  of  1791 "  ( !)  A  few  days  ago  a  state- 
ment regarding  the  acceptance  of  Spanish  or  Italian 
moneys  at  the  post-office  quoted  as  its  authority  the  law 
of  1807.  Warnings  against  the  posting  of  bills  often  give 
their  authority  in  the  law  of  1881. 

Lille, 

Monday,  August  8. 

"Well,  then,  if  you  are  going  up  there  to  find  work  in 
the  steel  plant,"  a  French  travelling  companioo  said  to 


OTHER  VICTIMS  OF  A  NEW  KIND  OF  WAR    95 

me  this  morning  after  I  had  told  him  my  plans  in  mono- 
syllabic answers  to  his  questions,  "then,  of  course,  you 
must  be  French." 

Of  course  I  was  delighted.  But  when  I  started  to  ex- 
plain my  Americanism,  he  interrupted: 

"It  is  not  necessary  to  explain,  sir.  I  can  see  at  once 
that  your  features  are  not  French,  but  I  should  say  with- 
out hesitation,  Polish."  ( !) 

It  was  amazing  to  learn  that  both  he  and  the  woman 
with  him  and  another  couple  who  chanced  into  the  same 
compartment  are  strolling  singers.  Furthermore,  they 
are  members  of  a  national — or  international — Union  of 
Strolling  Musicians!  At  the  steel  town  not  far  from 
Bethune  we  had  coffee  together.  The  woman  was  frank 
enough  about  her  affairs: 

"How  long  married?  Ah,  mon  Dieu,  too  long!  You 
see,  I  married  the  first  man  I  met  on  the  street.  I  haven't 
seen  him  in  a  year.  .  .  .  This  man?  Ah,  a  brave  gargon 
he  is.  Always  the  fine  gentleman  and  polite.  So  generous 
and  kind.  Always  like  this.  .  .  .  Divorce?  Why 
trouble?  Besides  it  costs  thousands  of  francs." 

Later  I  met  the  two  walking  out  to  the  factory  gate 
for  the  noon  recess.  He  had  on  black  glasses  and  was 
leaning  heavily  on  her  arm.  He  quickly  snatched  the  black 
things  off  with  a  word  about  the  dust,  but  I'm  uncom- 
fortably persuaded  he  was  posing  as  a  wounded  soldier 
— even  though  he  didn't  try  that  at  the  restaurant.  Ac- 
cording to  his  jolly  report  in  his  splendid  speaking  voice, 
he  had  collected  thirty  francs  already.  Most  of  his  audi- 
ence of  workers  would  envy  him  his  profitable  career. 

The  steel  plant  looks  brand-new  as  the  result  of  the 
15,000,000  francs  paid  the  company  by  the  government 


96    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

for  damages  done  by  more  than  3,000  shells  of  assorted 
sizes  delivered  by  the  German  artillery.  The  old  battle 
front  is  only  about  three  miles  away.  Although  business 
is  slow  just  now,  the  place  manages  to  keep  its  2,500  men 
fairly  busy.  Outside  of  a  large  group  of  Belgian  laborers, 
the  only  foreigners  are  about  fifty  Portuguese  soldiers 
who  haven't  yet  gone  home  from  the  war.  The  blast- 
furnaces— of  American  design  and  patent — use  ore  from 
the  newly  developed  district  in  Normandy  near  Caen. 
The  open-hearth  looks  small  but  very  efficient  and  up- 
to-date.  The  rolling-mills  show  an  amount  of  hand  labor 
that  few  American  engineers  would  tolerate.  Coal  comes 
by  canal  from  the  mines  near  Bethune,  doubtless  through 
the  huge  canal-boat  depot  for  which  that  town  is  famous. 

The  manager  assured  me  that  the  workers  are  quite 
happy.  Such  assurance  is  usually  sincere  but  not  always 
valuable.  Sorry  that  it  seems  unwise  to  stop  for  a  job. 

Between  the  steel  town  and  Lille  is  an  almost  unbroken 
line  of  original  battle  front — including  the  town  of  Ar- 
mentieres,  where  the  fighting  was  evidently  extremely 
heavy.  Altogether,  the  country  makes  a  remarkable 
picture  of  rusty  war-tune  damage  alongside  amazing 
peace-time  reconstruction — in  every  way  typical  of  pres- 
ent-day France.  Great  expanses  of  golden  harvest-fields 
show  here  an  active  windmill  and  there  a  mass  of  barbed 
wire  or  an  ugly,  half -ruined  "  pill-box,"  or  machine-gun 
shelter  with  its  sinister  slit  peering  out  toward  the  enemy; 
here  a  few  trees  with  wondrous  green  branches,  there  a 
forest  reduced  to  naked  telegraph-poles;  here  a  gaping 
roof  with  leaning  walls,  there  a  group  of  tasteful  homes 
under  crowns  of  gorgeous  red  tiles. 


OTHER  VICTIMS  OF  A  NEW  KIND  OF  WAR    97 

Adding  the  afternoon's  group  of  telegraph  wire- 
stringers  to  all  the  other  French  artisans  encountered  to 
date  makes  it  easy  to  describe  the  type — fairly  well-built 
but  not  tall  or  large,  with  black  mustache,  naval  cap 
with  patent-leather  visor,  neat  suit  of  blue  overalls  with 
double-breasted  jacket  buttoned  tight  to  the  neck,  bicycle 
clips  on  trouser  bottoms.  In  many  cases  it  would  not 
be  wrong  to  add — "and  a  good-sized  wad  of  cotton  hi 
each  ear." 

As  to  the  women,  I  keep  wondering  whether  the  dread- 
ful frequency  of  mourning  apparel  is  the  result  of  war- 
tune  rifles  or  peace-time  religion.  As  in  South  America, 
it  is  necessary  always  to  remember  that  social  usage  here 
makes  a  virtue  of  underlining  the  blackness  of  death. 
Long  before  the  war,  the  institution  of  purgatory  has 
made  these  countries  appear  the  land  of  the  buried  but 
undecided — or  religiously  undisposed  of — dead. 

It  must  be  added,  however,  that  the  same  religion  does 
not  fail  to  underline  similarly  the  importance  of  giving 
life  here  on  earth.  When  to  that  emphasis  is  added  the 
present  patriotic  effort  to  increase  France's  population, 
the  results  are  sometimes  spectacular.  This  morning's 
paper  gives  136  lines  of  names  of  families  which  have 
received  a  gold  medal  for  what  might  be  called  successful 
national  and  religious  " production  records."  These 
lines  appear  to  average  16.5  children  each — or  136  X  16.5 
=  2,224  sons  and  daughters  of  "la  Patrie."  And  that's 
for  only  two  of  France's  88  departments ! 

Still,  something  like  this  is  undoubtedly  called  for  by 
a  people  whose  practically  diminishing  population  has 
suffered  the  loss  of  1,800,000  men— 53  per  cent  of  its 


98    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

manhood  of  fighting  age ! — also  600,000  homes  and  100,- 
000,000,000  francs  of  property. 

One  of  the  indications  of  all  this,  namely  the  cost  of 
living,  is  put  by  the  government  at  336  per  cent  as  com- 
pared with  pre-war — incidentally  almost  exactly  twice 
the  present  American  figures.  Here  at  Lille  to-day  a 
well-informed  editor  went  so  far  as  to  express  his  own 
pessimistic  disbelief  in  the  figures  as  too  low.  Further- 
more, instead  of  going  down,  he  believes  the  present  wide- 
spread drought  is  raising  them,  temporarily  at  least.  So 
he  sympathizes  with  the  local  textile  strikers.  He  is  also 
extremely  blue  now  that  the  government  has  failed  to 
get  any  German  reparations  money  and  so  finds  it  neces- 
sary to  suspend  payments  for  damages  incurred  by  the 
smaller  manufacturers  after  it  has  advanced  such  large 
sums  to  many  of  the  larger  companies.  I  must  confess 
that  an  hour  or  two  on  the  streets  to-night  make  one  feel 
with  him  that  local  industry  is  languishing  sadly  at  the 
moment.  All  the  restaurants  have  plenty  of  good  or- 
chestras or,  at  worst,  very  noisy  though  really  musical 
automatic  instruments.  Everything  is  all  right  except 
the  people.  They  aren't  in  evidence.  "I  have  piped  for 
ye,  and  ye  have  not  danced." 

Nevertheless,  all  the  reports  show  that  this  depart- 
ment of  the  north  has  made  a  much  better  record  for 
reconstruction  than  the  other  devastated  counties — its 
present  percentage  of  "reconstitution"  is  83.2  of  con- 
cerns employing  20  persons  or  more  now  again  hi  opera- 
tion. The  amazing  thing  is  that  the  district  has  done 
so  well,  considering  all  it  suffered  from  the  new  type  of 
warfare  so  fully  demonstrated  here  as  well  as  at  Lens. 

It  appears  that  in  February,  1916,  over  200  German 


OTHER  VICTIMS  OF  A  NEW  KIND  OF  WAR    99 

scientists  and  experts  made  a  detailed  study  of  the  in- 
dustries of  all  the  regions  of  France  held  by  them.  The 
resultant  500-page  report  was  sent  by  the  government  to 
all  the  chambers  of  commerce  and  other  commercial  and 
economic  organizations  in  the  empire — "for  the  purpose 
of  giving  a  view  of  results  which  will  probably  follow  for 
Germany  from  the  destruction  of  certain  branches  of  in- 
dustry of  our  enemies."  The  report  gives  minute  infor- 
mation as  to  the  exact  kind  of  machines  which  have  been 
destroyed  and  which  will  be  necessary  for  the  reconstruc- 
tion, which  should,  therefore,  be  presently  manufactured 
in  Germany  so  as  to  be  ready  to  sell — to  France — when 
the  war  is  over !  Very  specifically  it  indicates,  also,  the 
different  products  the  international  markets  for  which  will 
be  open  to  German  producers  because  the  established 
French  producers  will  be  out  of  commission.  The  number 
of  months  following  the  war  likely  to  pass  before  France 
can  make  any  successful  effort  to  regain  these  markets, 
the  engineering  experts  calmly  proceed  to  estimate  with 
the  utmost  exactitude!  "The  French  sugar-making  in- 
dustry can  be  expected  to  disappear  completely  from  all 
later  possibility  of  successful  competition  hi  any  foreign 
markets,"  is  one  phrase.  In  order  to  get  full  credit  for 
the  government  and  its  careful  thoughtfulness  for  its 
business  men,  the  report  also  details  whether  this  or  that 
particular  industry  was  damaged  mainly  by  the  ordinary 
mishaps  of  war  or  by  the  far-sighted  economic  mandates 
of  the  government.  It  takes  particular  pains  to  show 
that  the  chief  damages  in  the  way  of  ruined  factories 
and  machinery  are  to  be  credited  to  the  latter,  rather 
than  to  the  ordinary  military  operations  of  the  army! 
The  invaders'  failure,  so  far,  to  pay  for  this  cold-blooded 


100    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

economic  and  non-military  destruction  is,  of  course,  a 
huge  factor  in  causing  the  greatest  " general  strike"  hi 
history — the  present  strike  of  the  world's  buyers.  So 
before  going  on  further  with  France  I'm  glad  to  be  step- 
ping across  the  boundary  to-morrow  for  a  short  stop- 
over hi  Belgium  and  then  a  look  into  the  central  power 
station  of  the  world's  most  recent  unhappiness — Ger- 
many. 

Later. — The  twin  cities  of  Roubaix  and  Tourcoing,  be- 
tween Lille  and  the  Belgian  frontier,  look  surprisingly 
well  built  and  well  equipped  with  up-to-date  textile  fac- 
tories in  spite  of  the  suddenness  and  recentness  of  their 
development  as  manufacturing  centres  famous  through- 
out the  textile  world.  The  streets,  too,  were  peaceful 
as  could  be,  in  spite  of  the  newspaper  reports  of  the 
textile  strikes  and  the  general  unhappiness  among  the 
strikers. 


CHAPTER  VII 
A  BIRD'S-EYE  VIEW  OF  BELGIUM^ 

Ltege,  Belgium, 
Sunday,  August  14th. 

No  wonder  these  Belgians  join  the  French  in  their 
difficulty  and  hesitation  in  getting  back  to  a  normal  state 
of  mind.  Almost  every  day  this  past  week  has  been  the 
seventh  anniversary  of  the  capture  of  some  historic  point 
of  national  defense  back  in  those  awful  days  of  August, 
1914 — capture  and,  worse,  pillage.  Even  upon  the  busy 
streets  it  is  easy  to  imagine  the  gray  lines  moving  on  and 
on,  always  in  the  direction  of  France.  Post-cards  show- 
ing the  outrages  committed  are  still  on  display  and  sale. 
Nobody  would  be  more  pleased  than  I  to  find  few  such 
signs.  But  here  they  are  and  here  they  remain  as  both 
symptoms  and  causes  of  the  state  of  mind  of  the  western 
Europe  of  to-day.  And  that  state  of  mind  is,  after  all, 
the  only  place  in  which  to  seek  the  seeds  of  the  western 
Europe  of  to-morrow. 

The  picture  gamed  these  last  few  days  of  the  life  of 
the  Belgian  worker  is  not  an  encouraging  one.  Every- 
body has  to  work  and  work  hard,  that's  sure.  The  men 
do  look  huskier  and  more  capable  of  it  than  the  French. 
In  fact,  they  much  resemble  us  Americans — possibly  as 
the  result  of  the  Flemish  blood.  All  seem  to  agree  that 
the  Belgian  worker  in  general  is  not  as  skilled  as  the 
French — also  that  the  country's  foreign  trade  is  built 
largely  upon  low  wages.  In  Charleroi,  the  chief  coal 

101; 


102    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

. 
town,  the  saioke,  the  untidy  homes,  the  bad  smells,  the 

heavily  leaded  burros,  the  wooden  shoes,  the  dirty  chil- 
dren and  the  huge  dumps  of  "gob"  from  the  mines,  make 
life  look  considerably  harder  than,  for  instance,  in  the 
coal  towns  of  Wales.  The  coal  is  reported  of  high  quality: 
otherwise  its  working  would  not  be  profitable  from  the 
seams  located  as  much  as  3,000  feet  and  more  below 
ground.  All  attempts  to  get  down  proving  fruitless,  the 
time  had  to  be  spent  in  talking  with  the  men  and  with 
some  of  the  hundreds  of  young  girls  working,  in  the 
roughest  of  clothes,  at  emptying  the  heavy  cars  in  the 
tipple.  An  American  soldier  appears  to  have  put  it  about 
right: 

"They  treat  the  women  here  like  dogs,  and  they  make 
the  dogs  work." 

In  October  a  national  eight-hour  law  becomes  effec- 
tive. Compulsory  public  education,  legislated  just  be- 
fore the  war,  went  into  effect  only  last  year.  The  corol- 
lary of  all  this  is  seen  in  the  seriousness  of  drunkenness 
among  the  workers.  Mr.  Rowntree  of  England  estimates 
almost  one-sixth  of  the  worker's  income  as  going  into 
alcohol.  Recent  legislation  for  limitation  along  this  line 
requires  that  spirituous  liquors  must  now  be  bought  in 
quantities  of  not  less  than  two  litres  at  stores  and  not  be 
consumed  on  the  premises.  The  saloon-keeper  claims — 
naturally  enough — that  there  is  more  drunkenness  now 
that  the  worker  takes  his  stuff  home  and  treats  the  whole 
family.  Others  complain  that  the  legal  minimum  is  too 
large  and  expensive  for  the  average  worker.  Meanwhile 
the  emphasis  upon  beer  and  wines  has  enormously  in- 
creased the  importation  of  heavier  beers  and  ales  from 
England  and  of  wines  from  Spain  and  Portugal.  Ac- 


A  BIRD'S-EYE  VIEW  OF  BELGIUM  103 

cording  to  my  friend,  the  saloon-keeper,  these  last  contain 
from  28  to  40  per  cent  alcohol !  It  all  makes  it  look  cer- 
tain that  legislation  permitting  beer  and  light  wines  is 
extremely  difficult  of  enforcement.  Most  observers,  how- 
ever, seem  to  believe  that  there  is  considerably  less 
drunkenness  than  formerly. 

Hardly  half  the  workers  are  in  the  unions  and  these 
are  much  split  up.  The  most  aggressive  group  is  of  fairly 
radical  Socialist  persuasion,  fighting  the  battles  of  class 
enmity  on  the  lines  laid  down  by  Karl  Marx.  Because 
these  are  felt  to  be  pretty  thoroughly  against  religion, 
the  Catholics  have  organized  a  large  membership  in  their 
"  Christian  unions,"  working  toward  co-operation  be- 
tween worker  and  employer.  In  between  these  two  in- 
terests there  is  a  body  of  neuter  or  non-religious  unions, 
numbering  several  hundred  thousand  members. 

On  all  sides  people  evidently  find  the  margin  of  living 
pretty  narrow.  Even  in  the  restaurants  frequented  by 
clerks,  throngs  come  in,  buy  a  cup  of  coffee  or  a  glass  of 
beer  and  unwrap  their  packages  of  sandwiches.  "H.  C. 
L."  has  gone  up  close  to  400  per  cent.  A  local  news- 
paper dispute  says  volumes  about  the  local  working  man's 
standard  of  living. 

"Our  esteemed  contemporary,  the  labor  paper,"  so  an 
"upper  class"  newspaper  argues;  "figures  a  standard  of 
living  requiring  not  less  than  one  hundred  francs  weekly 
for  a  family  of  three.  We  believe  seventy-five  is  more 
reasonable.  We  notice  that  in  the  higher  schedule  meat 
appears  once  a  day  for  every  member  of  the  family.  To 
us  this  seems  an  undue  luxury  justifiable  only  for  the 
sustenance  of  the  family's  bread-winners."  ( !) 

Perhaps  my  French  landlady's  conscience,  as  well  as 


104    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

her  pocketbook,  was  responsible  for  the  frugality  of  her 
meat-fork.  "How  it  is  pleasant  to  recall"  the  easy-going 
ways  of  my  American  landladies  with  their  heaping  plates 
of  lamb  stew  or  "two  fried,"  and  the  never-failing  "stack 
of  wheats"!  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  what  in- 
fluence that  frugal  fork  has  on  such  notices  as  are  to  be 
seen  on  the  walls  of  some  of  the  houses  in  the  laborers' 
suburbs  here  to-day: 

"Comrades,  come  to  the  meeting  of  protestation 
against  the  continued  exploitation  by  your  masters! 
The  time  has  come  for  us  to  put  an  end  to  it  all  and  rise 
in  our  night,"  etc.,  etc. 

The  famous  "Maison  du  Peuple,"  maintained  by  a 
federation  of  thirty-eight  different  national  unions,  be- 
sides carrying  on  a  great  variety  of  health  and  other  social 
and  educational  activities,  fights  the  cost  of  living  by 
co-operative  buying  and  selling.  Its  stores,  restaurants, 
and  movie  theatre  appear  to  do  a  huge  business.  Up- 
stairs hi  the  offices  of  one  of  the  union  officials  was  to  be 
found  much  the  same  discouragement  as  hi  similar  circles 
in  France: 

"At  present  the  increase  of  unemployment  necessitates 
the  practice  of  passive  acceptance.  Naturally  we  cannot 
fight  at  a  time  when  our  employers  would  only  be  too 
pleased  to  have  us  strike  and  get  ourselves  off  the  pay- 
roll. So  we  try  to  keep  thinking  of  the  big  gains  we  have 
made  within  the  last  few  years.  You  see,  before  the  war, 
labor  here  had  almost  no  rights.  Men  were  arrested  not 
only  for  striking  but  even  for  talking  with  each  other 
about  striking.  To-day  the  labor  vote  really  counts  in 
the  government.  It  is  the  war  that  helped  the  middle  and 


A  BIRDS-EYE  VIEW  OF  BELGIUM  105 

upper  classes  to  realize  that  the  working  man  had  saved 
the  country.  Now  they  are  willing  to  treat  him  better. 
Before,  compulsory  service  in  the  army  mainly  affected 
labor  because  well-to-do  people  could  always  pay  a  slight 
penalty  and  then  hire  a  worker  to  take  their  places.  .  .  . 
Of  course,  we  cannot  work  out  our  own  salvation  here  hi 
Belgium  as  we  would  like.  That  is  because  we  are  sur- 
rounded by  Germany,  Holland,  and  France.  We  have 
always  to  think  of  them — always.  There  are  not  so  many 
Communists  amongst  us,  but  we  certainly  are  against 
the  present  system  of  society  which  allows  the  masters  to 
put  hundreds  of  thousands  of  men  off  the  job  the  moment 
it  is  no  longer  to  their  pocket's  interests  to  keep  them 
busy — especially  when  80,000  houses  destroyed  by  the 
war  need  to  be  rebuilt,  in  addition  to  the  160,000  which 
represents  the  ordinary  20,000  constructed  every  year 
in  pre-war  times.  ...  As  to  alcohol,  well,  all  I  can  say 
is  that  there  used  to  be  hundreds  of  workers  in  the  hos- 
pital with  delirium  tremens;  now  only  a  few  score." 

As  everywhere  over  here,  the  present  appears  always 
rooted  in  that  recent  past  which  dates  from  August,  1914. 
Here  is  the  young  woman  stenographer,  finally  found  for 
some  copying: 

"Four  years  I  was  in  England — just  in  time  my  mother 
and  I  got  out  of  Ostend.  Our  father  would  stay  to  see 
after  our  house.  His  body  was  found  in  the  ruins  after 
the  first  day  of  bombardment.  .  .  .  No,  we  do  not  ex- 
pect to  get  the  money  promised.  The  government  is 
soft  with  promises  but  with  money  very  hard.  .  .  .  Now 
my  mother  keeps  a  shop  and  I  work,  as  you  see.  That 
is  not  so  bad.  But — well,  you  see,  I  had  expected  to 


106    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

marry  my  cousin — that  was  before  the  war.  You  see, 
then  I  was  of  a  family  fairly  rich.  Now  he  must  marry 
another.  His  father  has  lost  much  by  the  war  also.  So 
he  must  use  all  his  fortune  to  give  his  daughter  the  largest 
possible  'dot'  for  her  marriage.  If  the  family  does  not 
plan  carefully  it  will  lose  its  position.  .  .  .  No,  I  would 
not  let  him  marry  me  because  for  that  his  father  would 
cast  him  off.  And  that  is  impossible.  He  is  only  twenty- 
five  years  old  and  a  musician.  He  is  not  sure  he  can  make 
it  go  alone.  .  .  .  That  may  cause  the  usual,  what  we 
call,  ' marriage  of  four7:  he  and  the  girl  he  marries  do 
not  love  each  other  so  they  may  find  each  another  friend. 
But  I  shall  never  be  one  of  the  four — not  at  least  as  long 
as  my  mother  and  sister  live.  Besides,  for  me  my  mother 
has  already  picked  out  a  husband.  I  do  not  like  him  and 
have  said  so,  but  that  will  not  make  great  difference. 
.  .  .  But  you  were  dictating,  sir?"  (Business  of  wiping 
away  tears.) 

Evidently  the  political  as  well  as  the  family  problem 
here  is  highly  complex.  The  Flemish  people  learn  French, 
but  the  Walloons  or  near-French  find  Flemish  too  hard 
and  not  very  usable.  Every  town  has  a  name  in  each 
language.  Tirlemont  hi  one  is  Thiemen  in  the  other. 
The  possibility  of  separating  into  two  states  or  of  splitting 
off,  one  to  Holland,  the  other  to  France,  appears  under 
much  discussion,  as  I  imagine  it  has  long  been.  The 
need  of  increasing  the  state's  income  is  evidently  almost 
as  urgent  as  in  France,  seeing  that  the  Belgian  franc  suf- 
fers a  little  more  depreciation.  Business  men  are  said 
always  to  have  in  mind  that  the  government  is  anxious 
to  get  hold  of  profitable  enterprises.  At  present  it  runs 


A  BIRD'S-EYE  VIEW  OF  BELGIUM          107 

a  line  of  turbine  steamers  on  the  Channel  in  connection 
with  the  nationalized  railroads.  Luckily  the  government 
telephone  service  is  a  little  better  than  the  French.  Judg- 
ing from  the  newspapers,  the  population  takes  about  as 
little  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  rest  of  the  world  as  does 
France.  Cotton  is  used  in  the  ears  of  the  average  citizen 
about  as  much  as  across  the  border. 

Here  to-day  it  becomes  extremely  evident  that  the  in- 
vaders must  have  profited  enormously  from  adding  the 
country's  war  resources  to  their  own.  On  all  sides  are 
coal-mines,  steel  plants,  and  chemical  and  fabricating 
establishments  of  all  sorts,  not  to  mention  a  network 
of  rivers,  canals,  and  railroads.  The  abundance  of  all 
these  possessions  is  made  all  the  more  impressive  by  the 
sight  of  numerous  cattle  and  prosperous  harvests  hi  the 
field — in  general,  the  restoration  of  normal  conditions  con- 
siderably beyond  that  of  near-by  France. 

At  the  German  consulate  yesterday,  a  Hollander  told 
of  selling  all  the  German-made  hosiery  he  could  find  to 
the  merchants  of  both  Belgium  and  England  at  prices 
30  and  40  per  cent  below  all  competition.  Perhaps,  after 
all,  the  interest  of  all  of  us  in  the  dollar  furnishes  a  salu- 
tary antidote  for  the  emotions  which  would  retain  the 
old  hatreds  and  so  maintain  the  world  in  its  old  uproar. 

The  odd  thing  is  that  in  the  midst  of  all  these  affairs 
of  international  weight,  the  load  which  bears  most  heavily 
upon  my  own  spirit  at  the  moment  comes  from  the  amaz- 
ing ability  of  a  second-class  waiter  in  a  plain  restaurant 
here  to  look  down  upon  me  and  my  third-class  clothes — 
in  spite  of  his  own  ill-fitting  waiter's  coat  and  a  greasy 
shirt-front,  soiled  and  frayed  like  an  expired  patent  of 


108    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

nobility.  It  is  strange  how  little  satisfaction  even  taste- 
ful food  gives  when  every  glance  from  others  serves  as  a 
push  down  toward  the  bottom  of  one's  self-respect.  It 
takes  much  effort  to  overcome  such  obstructions  and 
get  the  frame  of  mind  of  the  woman  caretaker  met  yester- 
day in  a  Brussels  washroom — singing  cheerfully  as  on 
her  knees  she  made  her  tiles  shine: 

"Yes,  every  day  here  for  seven  years,  and  every  day 
the  place  rewards  me  with  its  being  clean,  you  under- 
stand? And  always,  too,  the  men  are  gentlemen.  So 
I  am  always  happy.  ...  On  Sunday,  yes,  of  course, 
always  to  mass  and  the  confessional.  .  .  .  Yes,  always 
happy  except  when  for  some  reason  I  must  leave  at  night 
without  putting  all  hi  order  and  must  come  in  to  find 
my  room  with  a  dirty,  ugly  face  for  starting  in  the  day. 
Ugh,  that  I  do  not  like — till  I  have  it  smiling  again. 
Good  day,  m'sieuT1' 


CHAPTER  VIII 
KRUPP'S  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL 

Essen,  Ruhr  District, 
Monday,  August  15. 

So  this  is  Germany ! 

Yes,  and  the  industrial  and  war-making  centre  of  it, 
too.  For  most  of  the  afternoon  has  been  spent  in  the 
huge  and  somewhat  forbidding  office-building  which 
bears  the  mighty  name  of  Krupp. 

Unfortunately  no  job  can  be  given  me:  foreign-speak- 
ing people  are  not  yet  popular  again.  Even  my  promised 
trip  through  the  plant  is  to  be  on  the  understanding  that 
all  conversation  with  the  workers  is  "streng  verboten." 

I  hope  that  the  visit  will  make  it  easier  to  understand 
how  all  these  people  earn  their  living  by  day  in  order 
to  spend  the  evening  overflowing  the  sidewalks  out  into 
the  streets — unlessf  they  join  the  crowds  who  enjoy  the 
small  orchestras  hi  the  beer-halls  and  wine-rooms.  Essen 
is  hardly  going  as  yet  full  steam  ahead,  but  the  city  of 
munitions  and  mines  certainly  looks  busy  to-night.  So 
does  the  whole  group  of  machinery  and  steel  towns  passed 
through  this  early  afternoon  on  the  way  up  from  Cologne. 
Huge  tall  smoke-stacks  by  the  dozen  are  in  sight  almost 
every  moment  of  the  way.  Many  of  them  have  a  circular 
water-tank  half-way  up  their  height  which  gives  the 
chimney  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  " fighting  top" 
of  a  battleship.  Not  inappropriate,  considering  the  way 
Essen  in  particular  and  this  whole  Ruhr  district  hi  gen- 

109 


110    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

eral  sent  to  the  war  fronts  on  land  and  sea  their  train- 
loads  of  shells,  guns,  armor-plate,  locomotives,  and  muni- 
tions of  every  kind. 

Unluckily  the  most  outstanding  impression  of  the  day 
is  very  closely  connected  with  those  same  suggestive 
chimneys.  It  is  exactly  the  impression  I  had  hoped  not 
to  receive  here — certainly  not  so  quickly.  It  is  this: 
Everybody  here  is  apparently  hating  the  French  with  all 
their  powers  of  hatred.  Everybody,  apparently,  is  hoping 
for  the  coming  of  "Der  Tag'1 — the  day  of  revenge. 

"To-day  hardly  a  German  boy  picks  up  his  knife  at 
the  table  without  uttering  the  wish  that  with  it  he  might 
go  to  Paris  and  avenge  the  wrongs  of  the  Fatherland." 
These  were  the  words  this  afternoon  of  an  important 
citizen  whom  my  letters  made  it  possible  to  meet. 

"If  France  had  not  so  insisted  upon  every  last  tittle 
of  the  outrageous  Versailles  treaty,"  he  continued,  "and 
then  committed  the  huge  psychological  error  of  putting 
German  populations  under  the  supervision  of  colored 
troops — I  have  seen  them  on  duty  hi  some  of  our  greatest 
cities,  yes,  with  my  own  eyes — then  perhaps  this  dread- 
ful new  war  of  hate  would  not  have  made  such  progress 
amongst  us." 

Everybody  talked  with  so  far  has  almost  the  same 
testimony — including  the  young  man  on  the  train  who 
had  lost  the  ends  of  three  fingers  from  a  French  hand- 
grenade.  No,  he  was  not  for  fighting  at  once ! 

"Just  now,  of  course,  we've  not  got  men  enough." 

Strangely  enough,  nobody  appears  to  hold  anything 
against  either  England  or  America.  All  are  evidently 
too  busy  hating  France!  Here  is  the  way  a  calm  and 


KRUPP'S  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL      111 

capable  industrial  executive  sees  the  present  state  of  the 
world  this  afternoon: 

"Yes,  Lloyd  George  is  coming  to  see  the  danger  to 
England  of  a  France  tnat  will  not  only  own  most  of  Eu- 
rope's iron  ore,  in  addition  to  the  coal  of  the  Saar,  but 
also  control  indirectly  through  Poland,  where  there  is 
much  French  capital,  the  coal  and  the  iron  and  steel 
plants  of  Upper  Silesia — besides  hoping  with  all  her  heart 
to  get  her  foot  into  the  mines  and  factories  of  this  dis- 
trict here.  Such  an  industrial  France  could  wipe  British 
as  well  as  German  steel  out  of  the  world's  markets  within 
six  months,  and  Lloyd  George  knows  it. 

"  Upper  Silesia  is  for  France  only  a  sort  of  second-best 
substitute  for  this  district  here  of  the  Ruhr.  Our  coal 
here  is  much  better — more  cokable,  for  instance,  than 
the  Saar  coal.  With  France  in  control  here,  the  indus- 
trial heart  of  Germany  would  be  under  France's  heel 
and  all  our  industrial  resources  would  be  in  her  hands. 
During  the  days  when  Germany  was  deciding  whether 
to  refuse  to  pay  and  so  to  permit  the  occupation  of  the 
Ruhr,  France  had  at  Diisseldorf — in  the  regions  already 
occupied  by  the  Allies — hundreds  of  her  best  engineers. 
Each  of  these  had  his  instructions  as  to  which  coal-mine 
or  steel  plant  he  was  to  find  and  what  he  was  to  do  to 
put  it  under  his  immediate  control. 

"It  is  much  better  for  all  the  world  that  France  should 
have  to  send  over  here  some  of  her  business  represen- 
tatives to  buy  our  coal  and  that  we  should  have  to  send 
ours  to  buy  her  iron — that  is  much  better  than  that  we 
should  have  a  supply  of  her  generals  and  colonels  drink- 
ing wine  in  our  restaurants  here  in  the  Ruhr,  is  it  not  so? 


112    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

"The  self-determination  of  peoples  may  be  right — 
your  President  Wilson  evidently  believes  so.  But  much 
better  is  the  ' self-determination  of  raw  materials.7  The 
peace  of  the  world  now,  as  always,  depends  much  more 
upon  that  than  upon  the  self-determination  of  peoples. 
That  it  is  that  makes  nations  friends  or  enemies :  whether 
these  supplies  make  the  nations  depend  upon  each  other 
for  wholesome  exchange  and  trade  or  whether  they  make 
them  too  independent  to  be  friendly — or  too  dependent 
to  be  able  to  exist  on  a  self-respecting  basis." 

I  had  hardly  expected  to  hear  so  much  sense  from  an 
official  of  the  house  of  Krupp. 

As  it  is,  the  soldiers  of  Great  Britain,  France,  and  Bel- 
gium throng  the  streets  and  restaurants  at  Cologne,  and 
indeed  the  whole  of  the  occupied  area  along  the  Rhine 
ending  at  Duisberg,  only  twenty  minutes  away  from 
here.  As  it  is,  too,  the  chief  thing  on  the  mind  of  both 
France  and  Belgium,  at  least,  is  the  fear  that  German 
troops  will  one  day  again — and  before  long — appear  un- 
expectedly at,  and  within,  their  borders  for  the  demon- 
stration of  their  burning  hate.  Only  a  day  or  two  ago 
a  Brussels  paper  derided  a  prominent  Socialist  who  re- 
turned from  Germany  to  announce  that  he  found  every- 
body there  so  sick  of  war  that  Belgium  could  enjoy  at 
least  fifty  years  of  unadulterated  peace  and  prosperity: 

"Unfortunately,  this  man  is  the  same  person  who 
gave  us  exactly  the  same  assurance  in  the  late  spring 
of  1914 !  .  .  .  And  with  us  to-day  the  situation  is  even 
more  dangerous  than  then.  To-day  we  have  the  Ger- 
man enemies  without,  while  within  our  borders  we  have 
the  disloyal  Communists  and  Bolshevists." 


KRUPP'S  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL      113 

It  is  this  same  kind  of  fear  that  made  France  and  the 
rest  of  the  world  feel  the  necessity  of  imposing  the  hard 
conditions  of  the  peace — the  able-bodied  fear  born  of 
forty  years  of  fear  fulfilled.  Those  fear-born  conditions 
have,  in  turn,  caused  the  heaped-up  hatreds  here.  This, 
in  turn,  goes  to  justify  that  fear.  And  so  the  awful  circle 
revolves,  growing  more  hateful  and  more  fearful  and 
more  hopeless  at  every  dreadful  turn. 

Germany  groans  at  the  huge  sum  of  indemnity,  but 
the  possibility  of  a  reckoning — an  unvictorious  reckoning 
—appears  hardly  to  have  been  kept  in  mind  during  those 
days  of  the  quick  crossing  of  Belgium.  It  is  hardly  too 
much  to  say  that  each  and  every  anniversary  of  all  those 
awful  days  will  cost  Germany  unhappiness,  if  not  money, 
for  a  long  time  to  come.  This  morning  over  in  Belgium, 
for  instance,  the  front  page  reminds  that:  " Seven  years 
ago  to-day  came  the  news  of  the  fall  of  the  Fort  of  Lonciu 
(near  Liege),"  with  the  details  of  the  heroic  resistance  of 
a  handful  of  brave  martyrs. 

The  trip  through  southeastern  Belgium  luckily  serves 
to  make  this  whole  warring  Europe  a  little  easier  to  under- 
stand. The  hilly  scenery  of  the  last  few  hours  up  to  the 
German  border  is  so  entirely  different  from  the  plains 
around  Brussels  that  it  helps  to  show  how  the  geological 
conditions  of  Europe  provide  an  amazing  amount  of 
geographical  variety  in  an  extremely  small  space.  This 
not  only  helps  to  modify  somewhat  the  dispositions  of 
the  different  groups  of  inhabitants  but  also,  throughout 
the  centuries  of  poor  communications,  to  hold  them  sur- 
prisingly wide  apart.  Geology  changes  people's  jobs  and 
tools,  for  one  thing. 


114    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

"This  engine  here,"  said  the  Belgian  engineer  when  I 
clambered  up  into  the  cab  at  a  division  point,  "is  of  Ger- 
man make  because  we  have  to  have  the  strongest  we  can 
get  for  this  hilly  country.  If  it  had  better  tubes  it  would 
be  fine  hi  every  way — almost  as  good  as  the  Americans 
they're  using  much  for  the  freight  trains  over  here: 
they're  stronger  still.  These  hills  make  us  work  harder 
than  we  should,  too,  because  we  get  only  bad  Belgian 
coal.  Look  at  it!  Nothing  but  dust,  except  for  those 
briquettes.  .  .  .  Well,  me,  I  believe  it  is  because  some 
of  our  government  railway  officials  have  too  many  shares 
in  mines — mines  of  bad  coal.  .  .  .  No,  I'd  rather  work 
for  a  private  railroad — that  is,  not  a  government  one. 
Here  we  have  too  many  functionaries  with  white  collars, 
high  hats,  and  even  higher  salaries.  ...  I  get  about 
800  francs  a  month  here  and  I've  served  my  years,  you 
understand,  as  day-laborer  about  the  yards  and  then  as 
fireman.  That  gives  me  enough  to  eat  but  nothing  for 
any  fine  house,  I  assure  you.  .  .  .  Ah,  yes,  we  do  try 
to  keep  it  nice  and  clean.  You  see  my  partner — I  mean 
the  other  engineer — we  run  each  day,  alternately,  the 
same  two  engines.  So  we  get  to  know  them — like  our 
wives — yes,  and  to  care  for  them,  in  the  same  way.  In 
America  I  understand  that  is  not  so:  an  engineer  over 
there  each  day  gets  an  engine  he  does  not  know.  How 
can  he  care  for  it — or  understand — as  he  should?  -It's 
a  pity — a  great  pity." 

It  is  a  positive  relief  to  recall  his  pleasure  hi  his  job, 
and  his  shining  engine  in  contrast  with  the  discouraging 
testimonies  of  this  afternoon.  It  is  amazing  to  get  so 
quickly  an  impression  so  definite  and  so  depressing — a 


KRUPP'S  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL      115 

feeling  of  such  confusion  and  despair  over  the  possibility 
of  the  world's  ever  getting  away  from  its  past  and  the 
bad  habits  which  that  past  developed. 

Still,  perhaps  we  can  all  break  away  some  day.  Even 
Krupps  have  broken  away  from  one  habit  and  started 
something  new,  according  to  my  official  friend.  He  told 
how  a  group  of  their  workers  had  complained  that  the 
gold  fillings  and  especially  the  gold  crowns  of  their  teeth 
did  not  stand  the  gritting  they  had  to  go  through  when 
the  men  lifted  the  heavy  weights  of  hot  or  cold  steel. 
So  the  plant  dentist — with  the  help  of  the  alloy  research 
department — started  to  pioneer  a  new  line.  As  the  re- 
sult, 1,500  Krupp  workmen  are  to-day  wearing  steel- 
crowned  teeth ! 

For  one  I'd  be  glad  to  see  Krupps  become  famous  for 
the  steel  teeth  of  peace  now  that  the  allies  have  pulled, 
or  at  least  done  their  best  to  pull,  the  establishment's 
highly  noted  teeth  of  war. 

Maybe  sleep  will  make  the  prospect  of  the  world's 
ability  to  pull  the  teeth  of  Mars,  as  well  as  of  Krupp,  look 
a  bit  brighter. 

Essen, 
Thursday  night. 

It  is  easy — unpleasantly  easy — to  get  the  "feel"  of 
the  big  war  here  to-day. 

"In  those  days  we  were  turning  over  to  them  all  the 
war-supplies  our  industrial  army  here  of  115,000  men 
and  women  could  furnish."  Our  conductor  had  just 
showed  us  the  rooms  up  in  the  tower  of  the  Krupp  office- 
building  where,  during  the  war,  the  army  and  navy  ord- 
nance officials  lived.  Doubtless,  they  often  stood  on  the 


116    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

same  high  balcony  where  we  were  and  looked  over  the 
same  square  miles  of  plant.  "Of  course,  we  made  nothing 
then  not  helpful  to  war.  But  in  normal  peace  times  be- 
fore the  war,  it  is  worth  noting  that  95  per  cent  of  our 
entire  output  by  tonnage  was  in  ships,  farm  machinery, 
and  other  non-military  materials — in  spite  of  our  fame  as 
nothing  but  makers  of  cannon.  During  the  war  we 
increased  our  space  by  over  70  per  cent.  Since  the  war 
(note  voice  lowered  and  smile  erased)  our  manufacture 
of  war  materials  is,  of  course,  practically  abandoned. 
Now  we  have  only  about  50,000  workers.  Of  these  about 
3,000  mine  coal  in  the  pits  which  are  directly  beneath 
the  plant.  They  go  down  by  those  tips  you  see  there. 
Right  over  there  in  that  big  building  we  constructed  the 
1  mystery  gun'  which  bombarded  Paris." 

Down  below  in  one  of  the  huge  buildings  we  saw  the 
great  rolls  at  which  the  massive  armor-plates  had  earlier 
been  made — now  covered  with  rust.  In  another  place 
car-wheels  and  rims  for  locomotives  are  being  fabricated. 
(A  recent  news  item  tells  of  the  formation  in  Berlin  of 
the  world's  largest  locomotive  trust.)  Besides  the  new 
Krupp  locomotives,  sewing-machines  and  even  type- 
writers are  soon  to  be  made.  Who  knows  but  that  in  a 
year  or  two  "Kruppsche"  baby-carriages  will  be  so  popu- 
lar that  the  advertisements  will  inform  us  that  "  chil- 
dren cry  for  them." 

The  working  conditions  vary  greatly  in  the  various 
departments  according  to  age.  They  would  hardly  be 
called  excellent.  Of  course,  we  could  not  possibly  see 
the  entire  plant  in  a  visit  of  a  few  hours.  Afterward  it 
was  interesting  to  see  six  or  seven  hundred  boys  and 


KRUPP'S  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL      117 

mutilated  soldiers  being  taught  various  kinds  of  more 
or  less  skilled  work.  The  company  bank  reports  30,000 
active  accounts.  Besides  paying  interest  at  5  per  cent, 
the  company  gets  up  a  little  sporting  interest  for  their 
depositors  by  giving  them  each  a  chance  at  a  semiannual 
lottery  for  considerable  prizes.  Some  of  the  workers  ought 
to  have  a  good  deal  of  money  to  invest — or  gamble  with 
— in  this  way.  At  the  very  large,  clean,  and  comfortable 
boarding-house  for  unfamilied  workers,  room  and  two 
meals  cost  only  11.50  marks  per  day — with  the  average 
unskilled  worker  earning  about  fifty.  Both  these  figures 
represent  an  increase  of  about  tenfold  over  pre-war. 
Nothing  but  photographs  would  do  justice  to  the  thor- 
oughly attractive  cottages  furnished  workers  worn  out 
in  the  Krupp  service,  each  group  in  a  colony  by  itself, 
married,  unmarried,  widows,  widowers,  etc.,  etc.  The  hos- 
pital also  looks  as  clean  and  up-to-date  as  one  could  wish. 

"I  own  this — and  these,  my  people.  I  will  take  care 
of  this — and  them,"  one  of  the  family  of  owners  is  re- 
ported to  have  said. 

That  is  the  only  fault  that  could  be  found — "  paternal- 
istic " — "  patriarchal,"  is  the  word  used  here.  The  Krupps 
would  doubtless  admit  it,  without  a  murmur.  They 
have  been  making  steel  here  since  1812,  passing  the  whole 
works  down  from  father  to  son.  To-day  the  head  of  it 
all  is  the  husband  of  the  sole  surviving  daughter,  and  he 
has  taken  the  Krupp  name — Count  Krupp  von  Bohlen. 
The  combined  tradition  of  good  wages,  good  care,  and 
absolutism  make  it  difficult  to  put  things  on  a  some- 
what more  democratic  basis,  much  as  some  of  the  officials 
are  now  said  to  desire  it. 


118    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

All  the  officials  evidently  take  their  jobs  and  their 
different  statuses  and  importances  quite  seriously.  Our 
guide  never  gave  the  slightest  look  at  ordinary  workers, 
but  demonstrated  much  elaborate  hat-tipping  and  bow- 
ing every  time  we  came  up  to  and  departed  from  anybody 
having  the  look  of  an  over-foreman  or  department  head. 
On  the  whole,  it  looked  much  like  a  huge  family  affair, 
and  peaceful  enough.  It  brought  something  of  a  shock  to 
see  the  boys  mending  a  machine  belt  made  up  of  little 
bolts  and  tiny  pieces  of  paper. 

"Of  course,  we  had  no  leather  in  those  war  days,"  the 
boss  explained. 

"If  I  had  known  I  was  to  meet  an  American,"  ex- 
claimed a  Saxon  farmer  who  was  visiting  his  first  steel 
plant,  "I  should  have  brought  along  some  pictures  of 
the  way  these  fiendish  Poles  are  mutilating  their  German 
and  English  captives,  including  officers.  Barbarous, 
they  are,  these  Poles.  They  are  not  human,  the  way 
they  make  war!" 

Of  course,  the  party  had  plenty  to  say  about  the  French 
and  the  ungodly  severity  of  the  peace  terms  imposed  by 
France  and,  so  it  appears  to  them,  by  France  alone.  All 
approve  completely  of  the  view-point  of  a  nationally 
famous  Professor  Oncken  of  Heidelberg  whose  lectures 
on  "World  History  and  the  Versailles  Treaty"  I  found 
a  few  nights  ago  on  a  bookstore  counter.  He  claims  that 
the  treaty  is  the  Great  Betrayal  of  History — that  the 
armies  of  Germany  merely  thought  it  better  to  quit  be- 
cause the  enemy  offered  in  the  "Fourteen  Points"  the 
attractive  terms  of  "No  annexation,  no  contributions, 
and  no  penalties  or  indemnities."  The  German  generals 


KRUPP'S  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL      119 

having  decided  to  sign  up  on  this  basis,  they  were  sud- 
denly given  something  entirely  different,  and  by  that 
time  it  was  too  late  f  o  get  back  their  arms. 

All  that,  of  course,  is  on  the  basis  of  German  armies 
entirely  undefeated,  also,  it  would  seem,  of  a  civil  rather 
than  military  understanding  of  the  famous  points — an 
understanding  upon  which,  surely,  no  German  com- 
mander could  have  based  his  decision  to  ask  for  a  truce. 
What  the  professor  does  not  elucidate  is  the  nature  of 
the  precise  terms  discussed  with  Foch  before  the  German 
generals  actually  decided  to  lay  down  then*  arms. 

I  confess  I  could  get  more  out  of  such  a  soul-searing 
acknowledgment  not  of  defeat  but  of  betrayal  if  there 
weren't  to  be  seen  on  the  streets  almost  as  many  "Streng 
Verboten"  signs  as  before — also  almost  as  many  hotels 
and  streets  and  things  labelled  " Kaiser,"  "Kaiserlich," 
and  "Hohenzollern."  One  railroad  postal  car  yesterday 
showed  this  last  crossed  off,  making  it  "Reiches  Post." 
Unfortunate  on  the  stranger,  also,  is  the  influence  of  the 
popular  style  which  makes  nearly  every  man's  head  into 
a  close-clipped  bullet-shaped  cranium  suggestive  of  so 
much  dreadfulness  during  the  war.  It  has  evidently 
become  universal  since  my  days  at  Berlin  University, 
when  we  used  to  see  dozens  of  students  thus  barbered 
in  order  to  show  the  scars  they  had  won  by  their  duelling. 
My  German  chum  there  was  very  proud  of  himself  after 
his  opponent — and  his  doctor — got  through  with  him 
even  though  his  head  was  nothing  but  a  ball  of  bandages 
with  a  glass  tube  for  a  mouth.  Through  it  he  managed 
to  say: 

"My  friend,  Fritz,  he  has  fought  already  five  'Men- 


120    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

suren/  and  had  only  twenty  stitches.  But  I — I  have 
fought  this  one  time  only  and  to-day  the  doctor  gave 
me  forty-three!" 

"All  that  man  could  do  to  prevent  it  I  have  done,  but 
my  skin  it  is  so  healthy  that  all  my  wounds  are  healing 
and  will  leave  no  scar.  It  is  terrible!"  he  confided  to 
me  sadly  some  weeks  later. 

With  these  bullet-heads  go,  generally,  a  very  narrow- 
brimmed  straw  hat,  a  white  and  very  high  stiff  collar, 
a  cane,  and,  quite  often,  a  frock  coat — altogether  an 
amazing  amount  of  style,  formality,  and  grandeur  for  a 
people  which  feels  as  badly  as  the  professor  states  and 
my  new  acquaintances  testify.  Also  for  the  fathers  and 
brothers  of  boys  and  girls  who  are  still  eating  the  bread 
of  charity.  Everybody  testifies  that  the  Quakers  have 
done  a  wonderful  work  feeding  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  children  during  the  war.  There  seems  to  be  plenty  of 
justification  for  continuing  to  give  one  square  meal  per 
day  to  a  comparatively  small  number  now.  This  number 
is  more  and  more  limited  to  those  who  are  found  by  ex- 
pert examiners  to  have  suffered  serious  impairment  or 
stunting  during  the  lean  years  of  the  blockade. 

Among  all  the  testimonies  of  hopelessness  and  bitter- 
ness, and  national  blamelessness — encountered  in  talking 
with  the  owners  of  those  close-cropped  heads — it  was  a 
relief  to  come  upon  one  man  of  rather  distinguished  posi- 
tion this  afternoon: 

"No,  it  was  not  the  result  of  the  way  our  generals  made 
war.  They  merely  did  what  they  were  told  and  they 
tried  to  do  it  thoroughly.  It  was  the  fault  of  our  states- 
men. It  was  they — with  the  help  of  the  Kaiser — who 


KRUPP'S  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL      121 

brought  it  about  that  Germany  came  to  have  no  friends 
among  the  nations. 

"Yes,  if  Upper  Silesia  were  taken  from  us,  we  might 
have  a  revolution  and  a  Kaiser  again.  No,  not  the  Kaiser. 
He  is  too  old.  And  not  the  Crown  Prince.  But  perhaps 
Eitel  Fritz,  for  instance.  He  is  popular.  But  he  would 
have  to  consent  to  be  a  constitutional  monarch,  as  in 
England." 

It  all  seems  a  dreadful  mess.  The  worst  of  it  is  that 
each  day  brings  a  better  understanding  of  how  all  these 
nations  here  are  not  only  mixed  up  with  each  other  now 
but  have  been  so  mixed  up  for  centuries.  So  the  mess  is 
not  only  a  German  mess.  It  is  a  European  mess.  What's 
worse  still,  I  see  no  possibility  of  our  keeping  very  far 
away  from  it,  much  as  we  should  like  to.  And  if  we  are 
forced  to  get  closer — where  its  arms  and  tentacles  can 
so  easily  pull  us  still  closer — then  there's  evidently  one 
thing  we've  just  got  to  do.  We've  got  to  try  to  under- 
stand it  better. 

At  this  hour  of  the  night,  that  makes  me  feel  almost 
as  lacking  in  hope  as  are  these  Germans.  But  not  so  full 
of  hate,  and  for  that,  at  least,  I  can  thank  God  sincerely. 

Essen, 

Friday. 

This  region  is  certainly  Germany's  "Pittsburgh  Dis- 
trict." To  travel  through  it  is  to  pass  one  almost  con- 
tinuous line  of  tall,  fighting-top  stacks  protruding  from 
great  factories  and  steel-works. 

Like  so  many  others,  the  plant  we  visited  in  a  near- 
by town  gets  the  coal  for  its  coke  ovens  and  blast-furnaces 


122    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

from  seams  directly  beneath.  It  belongs  to  Thyssen, 
before  the  war  reputed  the  country's  steel  king  next  to 
Krupp.  The  company  is  noted  for  its  attention  to  the 
well-being  of  its  50,000  or  more  workers,  though  it  can 
hardly  be  said  to  set  any  pace  in  that  direction  which 
would  particularly  bother  our  most  progressive  American 
employers  except  for  its  eight-hour  shifts,  with  Sunday 
off  in  all  departments  except  the  blast-furnaces.  The 
clubs  or  boarding-houses  showed  every  degree  of  luxury 
and  the  lack  of  it — all  at  very  reasonable  prices,  as  also 
the  coffee,  sandwiches,  bottled  waters,  and  beer  sold  to 
the  workers  and  their  families. 

"  They're  planning  a  strike.  They  see  the  cost  of  living 
going  always  up,  and  they  claim  they  must  have  more 
wages."  So  the  landlord  explained  as  we  came  upon  a 
group  of  men  in  one  of  the  best  " bachelors'  bunk-houses" 
I've  seen  in  a  long  time. 

This  particular  district  saw  the  worst  of  the  outbreak 
in  March,  1920,  which,  begun  by  the  reactionaries  and 
taken  advantage  of  by  the  radicals,  appears  to  have  fright- 
ened the  republicans  and  the  moderates  considerably. 
For  two  weeks  the  uproar  continued,  with  a  total  of  more 
than  150  killed  before  the  national  troops  got  things  set 
right.  Just  now  nobody  appears  to  take  the  radicals 
very  seriously. 

" Everybody's  too  tired  to  make  an  outcry,"  the 
speaker  was  waiting  outside  a  mine  to  try  to  get  a  job, 
and  a  chance  at  the  sixty  to  eighty  marks  they  manage 
to  make.  "  After  four  years  of  fighting  we  have  no  energy 
left.  It  makes  us  feel  good  to  have  a  chance  at  enough 
to  eat — especially  now  that  'worklessness'  is  spreading. 


KRUPP'S  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL      123 

I  come  from  over  near  Poland.  There  is  no  work  there. 
Here  have  I  a  friend — my  chum  he  was,  in  the  navy  dur- 
ing the  war.  I  hope  he  can  help  me  stay  here." 

"  As  for  me,"  explained  one  of  the  officers  of  a  large  fac- 
tory, "I  have  had  enough  and  more  than  enough  of  war. 
If  only  the  peoples  themselves  understood  each  other 
better !  But  how  can  they,  as  long  as  the  newspapers  talk 
only  of  wars  and  hatreds  and  distrusts  ?  These  it  is — these 
false  newspapers — that  are  the  murderers  of  the  peoples 
of  the  earth !  .  .  .  In  business  we  try  only  to  find  new 
methods  and  new  markets.  One  of  our  engineers  goes 
to  your  country  only  next  Monday.  In  coal  and  ore 
loading  machinery  you  are  already  far  ahead  of  us:  he 
goes  to  learn  and  perhaps  to  buy.  That  helps  to  under- 
standing and  good- will." 

"We  were  forced  into  the  war.  We  could  not  help 
ourselves!"  another  official  exclaimed  with  tears  in  his 
voice.  "And  now  we  are  ' occupied '  and  compelled  in 
all  ways  to  bow  to  the  Supreme  Council  of  the  allies. 
But  that  council  will  learn  some  day  that  there  is  a  Being 
in  the  heavens  who  is  more  supreme  than  they !  He  will 
redress  Germany's  wrongs !  And  France — how  hateful ! 
But  France  must  learn  that  if  you  would  milk  a  cow  you 
first  must  give  her  fodder!" 

I  wonder  what  emotional  experience — perhaps  the 
loss  of  a  child  during  the  blockade — has  given  so  pas- 
sionate a  tone  to  his  thought  and  voice.  At  any  rate, 
he  wanted  badly  to  be  friends  to  us:  "I  have  a  sister  in 
America.  .  .  .  Yes,  she  is  in  Sao  Paulo,  Brazil." 

It  is  unpleasant  to  think  that  perhaps  within  a  few 
years  some  of  the  children  of  to-day  will  be  hating  most 


124    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

of  the  world  outside  of  Germany  because  of  their  experi- 
ence this  afternoon.  At  Duisberg  a  great  bridge  spans 
the  Rhine  and  the  various  basins  which  make  for  thou- 
sands of  river  and  canal-boats  what  is  said  to  be  the 
world's  greatest  inland  harbor.  Half-way  over  the  bridge 
are  the  sand-bag  and  barbed-wire  pill-boxes  of  the  Belgian 
soldiers  representing  the  allies.  These  guards  have  to 
enforce  a  rule  forbidding  more  than  two  persons  under 
certain  conditions  and  more  than  ten  under  others  to  pass. 
As  we  came  by,  a  crowd  of  little  boys  and  girls  under  the 
leadership  of  a  few  young  teachers  were  zigzagging  back 
and  forth  across  the  roadway  in  the  utmost  fear  and  con- 
fusion, their  frightened  and  uncomprehending  faces  turned 
toward  the  soldiers,  precisely  like  a  lot  of  bewildered 
sheep.  And  all  the  guards  could  do  was  to  utter  guttural 
sounds  which  nobody  understood  though  I  think  they 
were  intended  to  be  German.  Finally,  the  dismayed 
teachers  and  panicky  youngsters  turned  back — probably 
to  remember  their  fright  for  a  long,  long  time. 

Other  children  are  said  to  have  similar  cause  to  re- 
member this  carrying  of  the  war  of  peace,  as  it  were, 
into  their  own  town:  they  were  kept  out  of  their  classes 
for  some  time  because  it  was  necessary  at  first  to  quarter 
the  soldiers  hi  the  schoolhouses.  Bad  feeling  is  also  re- 
ported from  crowding  several  thousand  soldiers  into  the 
homes  in  small  towns  whose  workers  have  to  be  away 
on  their  jobs  elsewhere  throughout  the  week.  Of  course, 
that  is  much  the  same  thing  that  occurred  hi  so  many 
French  homes  with  the  soldiers  coming  there  sometimes 
as  deadly  enemies,  other  tunes  as  allies. 

In  the  restaurants  the  waiters  seem  to  have  suffered 


KRUPPS  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL       125 

a  relapse  from  the  great  day  when,  after  "the  Revolu- 
lution,"  they  voted  to  abolish  the  undemocratic  insti- 
tution of  tips.  It  doesn't  seem  to  have  "stuck."  It  is 
probably  lucky  that  it  occurred  to  me  suddenly  this  eve- 
ning that  neither  they  nor  the  near-by  owners  of  some  of 
these  close-cropped  heads  were  enjoying  my  writing  on 
picture  post-cards  showing  the  ruins  of  Louvain ! 

Essen, 
August  20. 

•'Amerikaner?  Ach,  I  was  German  prisoner  with  the 
American  army.  And  when  I  came  back,  my  friends 
they  hardly  knew  me — so  fat  I  was.  They're  splendid, 
those  boys!  I  ate  better  there  as  prisoner  than  in  our 
army,  and,  yes,  better  than  I  can  eat  now.  You  see,  we 
get  here  only  thirty-three  marks  a  day."  I 

He  was  a  post-office  employee  of  about  twenty-three. 
His  case  is  said  to  be  much  that  of  all  groups  in  the  public 
service.  With  the  present  exchange  value  of  the  mark 
at  a  little  over  a  cent — eighty-five  marks  to  the  dollar — 
thirty-three  marks  hardly  pays  for  a  modest  supper. 
That  suits  the  American  visitor  but  makes  serious  busi- 
ness for  a  local  bread-winner. 

"A  'Beamier'  himself  couldn't  have  done  it  better." 
The  expression  represents  the  skill  and  the  conscience 
generally  exercised  by  the  "pre-revolutionary"  federal 
official  in  these  same  services.  Now  these  men  are  down 
at  the  heel.  With  the  teachers  and  the  doctors  they  have 
seen  the  cost  of  living  go  up  a  thousand  per  cent,  and 
the  number  of  marks  coming  into  their  hands  increased 
only  four  or  five  fold.  The  ex-army  and  navy  officers 


126    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

are  even  worse  off.  Many  of  these,  trained  from  youth 
to  be  nothing  else,  are  now  apprentices  learning  trades 
at  almost  nothing  a  week!  And  all  of  these  " middle 
classers"  see  themselves  much  worse  off  than  the  laborers 
who  here,  as  elsewhere,  have  utilized  their  organization 
to  keep  up  fairly  close  with  the  increased  "h.  c.  1."  For 
them  all,  too,  the  value  of  government  pensions,  never 
as  great  as  has  been  advertised  in  America,  has  vanished 
into  practical  nothingness  with  the  mark's  fall. 

As  to  the  cause  of  it  all,  a  local  coal  executive  and 
former  army  officer  has  been  willing  to  express  freely  a 
very  thoughtful  mind : 

"You  see,  we,  like  every  other  country  here  in  Eu- 
rope, live  in  a  very  crowded  room — so  crowded  that  if 
one  country  puts  its  fork  to  its  mouth,  it  is  likely  to  put 
its  elbow  in  some  other  nation's  eye.  Now  in  that  room 
Germany  has  found  only  enemies.  We  could  not  move 
except  to  fight.  Always  we  were  forced  to  fight.  .  .  . 

"But  as  early  as  1917,  all  the  German  officers  knew  the 
war  was  lost.  With  America  in  the  war,  our  potential 
air-craft  material,  for  instance,  compared  to  the  allies' 
as  one  to  1,000.  Your  Mr.  Ford  was  making  more  engines 
in  a  day  than  we  in  three  months. 

"Our  Kaiser  ran  away — he  can  never  come  back. 
Even  when  he  was  here  he  was  always  interfering  with 
his  ministers,  and  losing  friends  for  us.  The  Crown  Prince 
is  not  respected  by  his  officers:  he  had  too  many  women 
friends  with  him  at  Verdun." 

I  asked  if  he  didn't  think  something  like  the  League 
of  Nations  might  have  obviated  war  if  it  had  been  in  oper- 
ation in,  say,  1905,  and  had  tried  to  arrange  more  elbow- 


KRUPP'S  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL      127 

room  for  Germany  by,  for  instance,  making  the  Rhine 
an  international  river  through  Holland.  His  answer  was 
not  reassuring: 

"  Perhaps.  But  what  about  Alsace-Lorraine — the 
country,  you  understand,  that  Louis  Fourteenth  took 
away  from  us,  back  in  the  seventeenth  century?  Of 
course,  some  day  we'll  have  our  property  back  again. 
To-day  it  has  happened  just  as  a  French  officer  whom  I 
helped  to  capture  said  it  would:  'You  Germans  will  win 
the  war,  but  we  will  win  the  peace/  But  France  will 
not  long  win  the  peace.  France  is  done.  She  cannot 
lose  nearly  2,000,000  men  and  still  be  the  power  she  has 
dreamed  of  being.  Yet  she  is  strong  enough  to  make 
England  now  full  of  fear.  Where  England  used  to  fear 
us,  she  now  fears  France." 

A  moment  later  it  took  an  effort  to  keep  my  face 
straight — in  spite  of  the  seriousness,  indeed  of  the  tremolo 
of  his  voice — as  he  exclaimed: 

"Do  you  know  why  we  Germans  lost  the  war?  I  will 
tell  you.  It  is  because  we  have  never  learned  hate !  .  .  . 
But  now  we  begin.  We  hate  France!" 

"And  for  hoping,"  he  added  a  little  later;  "for  hoping 
we  are  now  too  tired — after  our  long  effort.  .  .  .  No, 
none  of  those  plans  will  work.  The  world  is  bad.  War 
we  must  always  have." 

It  is  evidently  the  allies'  need  of  coal  and  the  treaty 
arrangements  for  getting  it  here  as  part  of  the  repara- 
tions, that  helps  keep  this  district  so  busy.  Every  ten 
minutes  a  train  of  fifty  ten-ton  cars  leaves  for  allied  fac- 
tories mostly  in  France.  At  the  same  time,  the  German 
herring  boats  up  on  the  north  coast  are  said  to  be  tied 


128    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

up  because  the  supply  of  coal  left  behind  is  too  expensive. 
The  local  representatives  of  the  Interallied  Reparations 
Commission  are  doubtless  helped  by  the  fact  that  for  a 
long  tune  the  coal  industry  of  this  and  other  areas  has 
been  organized  upon  the  basis  of  a  kind  of  local  and  na- 
tional trust.  The  purchase  of  supplies,  the  sale  of  product, 
and  the  operation  of  the  shafts  are  handled  by  a  Syndikat 
or  federation  which  represents  all  the  district's  private 
properties  and  functions  in  close  touch  with  the  state- 
owned  mines.  These  local  committees  have  represen- 
tation upon  a  national  coal  organization.  That,  in  turn, 
has  its  representatives  upon  a  federal  committee  repre- 
senting every  field  of  the  entire  business  of  the  nation. 
Evidently  that  group  has  secured  a  better  arrangement 
with  the  railroads  than  we  have  hi  America.  Last  eve- 
ning the  big  station  here  showed  the  regular  daily  bulletin 
giving  the  district's  car  situation  for  the  day:  "21,172 
ordered  (by  the  coal  companies);  20,270  placed;  902 
lacking;  19,558  taken  away."  This  statement  is  tele- 
graphed throughout  the  country  so  that  to-morrow  morn- 
ing anybody  can  judge  the  railroad's  efficiency  and  the 
relation  between  demand  and  active,  moving  supply  for 
the  entire  country. 

Local  representatives  of  the  allies  also  have  to  attend 
to  the  destruction  of  war  material  at  Krupp's.  Accord- 
ing to  report,  the  plant  managers  used  to  write  to  gov- 
ernment offices  in  Berlin  for  instructions  before  complying 
with  orders.  Generally  that  meant  months  and  months 
of  delay.  Now  a  lot  of  contraband  munitions  is  simply 
put  onto  the  tables  and  there  broken  up  at  once.  Natu- 
rally enough,  these  inspectors  are  not  popular — some  of 


KRUPP'S  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL      129 

them  feel  that  their  very  lives  have  been  in  danger. 
Nevertheless,  the  people  on  the  street  seem  rather  glad 
for  a  chance  to  talk  with  an  " Auslander." 

"To  America  perhaps  my  son  will  go  later,"  said  a 
white-haired  gentleman  this  afternoon  when  asked  about 
a  street  and  told  of  my  nationality.  "Now  he  comes 
shortly  from  Spain  to  see  if  perhaps  a  better  opening  is 
here.  ...  If  only  we  could  go  ahead  with  our  trade 
we  would  still  be  happy — in  spite  of  the  occupation.  But 
the  sanctions — the  treaty's  sanctions !  It  is  by  these  that 
the  hateful  French  arrange  to  interfere  with  our  shipment 
of  goods,  and  so  to  stifle  us.  Without  these  we  might 
forget  the  war — even  though  it  was  forced  onto  us  by  the 
enemies  of  the  man  who  was  a  veritable  Prince  of  Peace, 
our  Kaiser." 

The  newspapers  are  probably  somewhat  to  blame  for 
this  willingness  to  talk  with  any  one  who  looks  a  bit  for- 
eign. English  and  other  outside  journals  are  practically 
unprocurable  and  both  the  local  and  the  metropolitan 
dailies  give  very  little  space  to  international  news — partly 
because,  of  course,  Germany  has  lost  her  cables.  But 
much  of  the  space  given  is  likely  to  be  used  by  the  editor 
to  set  forth  the  hatefulness  of  the  French,  British, 
or  American  motives  behind  the  action  or  event  de- 
scribed. 

"This  persecuted  feeling  of  Germany  is  one  of  the 
greatest  obstacles  we  have  to  fight,"  a  worker  connected 
with  an  international  relief  organization  explained.  "It 
is  only  with  the  greatest  delicacy  that  we  can  set  forth 
the  limits  of  our  efforts  here  by  calling  attention  to  the 
necessity  for  food  in  Russia,  Armenia,  and  elsewhere. 


130    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

This  sense  of  her  own  misery  undoubtedly  lessens  what 
this  country  might  otherwise  do  for  herself." 

"Haben  Sie  gequaked?"  is  said  to  be  the  present  form 
of  asking,  "Have  you  breakfasted?"  For  a  long  tune 
the  only  young  people  who  enjoyed  this  luxury  were  those 
that  took  them  out  of  the  bowls — the  "Quaker-kessel," 
as  they  now  are  called — used  at  the  children's  feeding 
stations.  "I  am  Quaker"  now  means  not  a  new  con- 
version away  from  old  faiths,  but  the  lucky  condition 
of  having  an  occasional  full  meal,  thanks  to  Quaker  kind- 
ness. 

"A  great  many  observers  come  for  a  few  days  and 
then  go  away  to  report  that  all  the  children  here  look 
fat  and  healthy.  But  unprejudiced  physicians  find  that 
these  children  are  nevertheless  anywhere  from  one  to 
three  years  undersized." 

So  far,  very  little  drunkenness  has  been  evident,  even 
though  the  wine-rooms  are  always  crowded.  Even  beer 
is  reported  too  expensive,  following  its  increase  of  price 
by  twenty  or  thirty  fold  over  pre-war.  Some  say  that 
the  dreadful  concoction  served  for  beer  during  the  con- 
flict— when  grain  was  too  precious  to  permit  the  real 
thing — was  a  real  cause  of  the  revolution  at  home  which, 
in  turn,  was  a  cause  of  the  defeat  at  the  front.  To-day 
a  Munich  brewer  advertises  the  full  pre-war  12  per  cent 
stuff.  So  at  least  one  thing  has  come  back  to  normalcy. 

Last  night  in  one  of  the  rougher  parts  of  the  city,  a 
big  crowd  watched  a  policeman  handle  a  few  mildly  in- 
toxicated men.  The  arm  of  the  law  seemed  to  figure 
that  the  old-time  strong-arm  measures  would  be  resented, 
so  he  considerately  begged  the  offenders  to  go  home. 


WORKERS  INSPECTING  CHEAP  SUITINGS  OUTSIDE  ONE  OF  THE 

SCORES  OF  GATES  LEADING  INTO  THE  HUGE   KRUPP 

ESTABLISHMENT 


A  GROUP  OF  WAR  ORPHANS  "AT"  ELBERFELV  ' 
"Haben  Sie  ge-quaked?"  is  now  good  German  for  "Have  you  breakfasted?' 


KRUPP'S  AND  THE  CANNON  CAPITAL      131 

Finally  one  of  them  started  to  run.  In  a  flash,  the  police- 
man's dog  was  after  him,  and  a  moment  later  in  front 
and  under  him,  tripping  and  sending  him  sprawling  with 
the  deftness  of  an  artist. 

Essen  is  evidently  enough  the  capital  of  Germany's 
war  industry,  and  so,  perhaps,  unrepresentative  of  her 
post-war  public  opinion.  Elberfeld  may  be  much  farther 
away  psychologically  than  the  few  miles  of  geography. 
I  hope  to  find  it  so  to-night  and  to-morrow. 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  WORKERS  IN  GERMANY'S  "PITTSBURGH  DISTRICT" 

Elberfeld,  Ruhr, 
Sunday,  August  21. 

THE  local  rapid-transit  which  hangs  from  one  over- 
head rail  just  above  the  bed  of  a  very  serpentine  little 
stream  and  at  the  height  of  factory  and  family  window, 
furnishes  a  most  delightful  way  of  studying  this  busy 
valley  city  and  its  Sunday  crowds  at  the  zoological  gar- 
den at  one  end  of  the  line,  and  its  "fans"  at  the  football 
field  close  to  the  other  terminal  in  Barmen. 

Evidently  this  latter  sport  is  furnishing  to  millions  in 
this  country  an  outlet  for  the  physical  energy  formerly 
taken  by  the  army.  Undoubtedly  it  is  to  be  recommended 
in  preference  to  the  goose-step.  The  great  crowd  had 
almost  as  much  appreciation  of  the  fine  points  of  the 
game — played  "soccer"  style — as  hi  England. 

In  the  zoological  garden  an  impressive  array  of  men 
plainly  dressed  but  with  silk  hats  and  canes  included 
several  musicians  wearing  opera  hats.  Such  display 
probably  says  more  about  one's  social  position  at  home 
or  office,  and  less  about  one's  financial  prosperity  than 
an  American  is  apt  to  think.  Besides,  the  male  here  is 
still  the  kaiser  of  his  family.  The  maintenance  of  this 
position  requires  that  he  shall  make  sure  of  his  plumage 
and  decoration.  In  line  with  all  this  outstanding  em- 
phasis upon  position,  one  of  the  animal  cages  this  after- 

132 


GERMANY'S  "PITTSBURGH  DISTRICT "      133 

noon  bore  the  sign  as  though  the  garden  and  the  city 
had  been  honored  more  by  the  rank  than  by  the  char- 
acter of  the  donors: 

Presented 

by 

GEH.    REGIERUNGSRAT 
(Honorary  Privy  Councillor) 

Dr.  M und  Frau. 

» 

But  we  all  come  by  something  of  the  same  tendency 
at  an  early  age. 

"My  dear  mister,  won't  you  please  take  me  by  my- 
self?" called  out  a  number  of  war  orphans  the  moment 
my  camera  was  pointed  at  then*  group. 

Perhaps  some  of  them  are  mourning  a  father  who  is 
not  dead  but  who  languishes  in  a  Russian  prison.  This 
afternoon,  headed  by  a  very  noisy  band,  a  procession 
passed  up  the  street  bearing  banners  with  the  legend: 

"Do  you  know  that  10,000  of  our  brothers  are  still 
prisoners  in  Russia?  Make  the  government  get  them 
back!" 

The  swaying  car  on  its  monorail  shows  the  district  to 
be  given  mainly  to  textiles  and  color  materials  and  other 
fine  chemicals.  Outside  of  a  few  large  plants,  the  fac- 
tories are  small,  perhaps  because  there  is  hardly  more 
room  for  them  than  for  the  railway  itself — it  was  hung 
over  the  river  because  there  was  no  other  space.  The 
place  recalls  Liege,  perhaps  because  there,  too,  the  hills 
are  close  upon  a  highly  industrial  city.  The  stores  here 
show  few,  if  any,  of  American  or  non-German  typewriters, 


134    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

cash-registers,  and  machinery,  while  Lie*ge  war  full  of 
products  of  our  factories. 

Another  difference  between  this  country  and  Belgium 
and  France  is  the  comparative  absence  of  black  crape 
— outside  the  newspapers  which  abound  with  such  heavily 
bordered  notices  as  "  Yesterday  afternoon  suddenly  de- 
parted my  dear  husband,  our  good  father,  stepfather, 

and  grandfather,  Herr  Professor  K ,  Doctor  of 

Philosophy  and  of  Engineering,  etc.  .  .  ."  Religion 
probably  has  most  to  do  with  this.  Perhaps  also  the 
government  frowned  upon  crape  during  the  war  as  hurt- 
ful to  morale.  Nevertheless,  the  picture  which  will  prob- 
ably stay  longest  in  my  mind  is  that  of  a  German  mother 
in  heavy  mourning  with  a  high-spirited  young  lad  in 
my  compartment  last  Monday.  As  he  sat  opposite  her 
in  the  train,  he  seemed  to  talk  and  perform  with  but  one 
object  hi  view — to  make  her  smile  from  behind  her  thick 
black  veil.  Once  he  almost  succeeded,  but  once  only. 
She  seemed  to  be  a  picture  of  Germany — yes,  of  all  Eu- 
rope— and  all  the  war-torn  generation  over  here.  The 
boy  was  not  born  too  late  to  feel  the  miseries  of  the  war 
but  too  late  fully  to  recognize  their  source. 

Will  the  new  generation  over  here  be  able  to  make  the 
old  one  smile  again — smile  again  and  also  forget — before 
it  passes  on? 

"All  like  that  they  are — these  children  that  were  born 
during  the  dreadful  no-potato  year,"  so  the  whisper  went 
around  among  the  workers  on  the  train  last  night  as  a 
mother  with  a  sickly  four -year -old  child  that  looked 
only  two  got  out.  "Doubtless  his  mother  could  give 
him  DO  milk  and  the  cows,  too,  were  starved  by  the  block- 
ade." 


GERMANY'S  "PITTSBURGH  DISTRICT"      135 

"At  first  when  my  man's  salary  as  a  railway  official 
failed  to  go  up  with  the  cost  of  living,  we  cut  off  our  little 
luxuries,  you  understand?"  explained  a  woman  whose 
face  showed  refinement  though  her  clothes  were  those 
of  near-poverty.  "But  now  since  long  time  we  have 
been  cutting  off  the  necessities.  And  now  the  cost  of  liv- 
ing goes  up,  our  salary  stands  still,  and  our  marks  go 
always  down.  What  next  we  can  do,  I  know  not,"  and 
she  wiped  away  the  tears. 

"We  all  know  what  you  mean,  madam,"  a  little  man, 
evidently  of  the  teacher  sort  made  himself  spokesman  of 
the  group's  sympathy,  "and  we  think  we  know  also  the 
cause.  These  war  profiteers,  they  know  it,  too.  Right 
in  our  town  I  know  a  man  who  used  to  be  like  the  rest 
of  us  and  now  he  has  his  millions.  How  can  that  be?" 

"Yes,  how?"  chorussed  all  the  others. 

"They  try  to  tell  us  that  the  cost  of  living  has  increased 
only  tenfold,"  the  teacher  went  on.  "That  isn't  true. 
Twenty-fold  is  nearer  it.  But  after  all,  my  friends,  it  is 
France  that  we  should  hate.  And  not  because  she  de- 
feated us,  either.  Defeated  we  were,  yes,  but  by  America 
and  England,  not  France.  If  we  could  have  a  king  such 
as  England  has,  then  we  should  be  better  off.  Why  should 
we  take  off  our  hats  to  our  president?  Isn't  he  an  ordi- 
nary fellow  like  the  rest  of  us?  We  might  still  have  the 
Kaiser  if  he  hadn't  been  so  everlastingly  strong  with 
that  eternal  'I*  of  his.  It  all  started  when  he  first  sent 
Bismarck  away.  We'll  have  no  more  of  him,  that's  sure. 
.  .  .  Yes,  it's  true  that  we  were  not  invaded.  Perhaps 
we  know  nothing  of  war  in  spite  of  the  great  hunger  of 
that  awful  blockade.  But  you  must  remember  Napoleon 
and  Louis  Fourteenth — always  invading  us  they  were." 


136    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

On  all  sides  the  most  outstanding  impression  is  one 
of  unstable  government,  possible  revolution — everywhere 
uncertainty  about  the  future.  It  is  the  state  of  mind 
which  we  would  doubtless  know  ourselves  if  we  had  to 
face  the  possibility  of,  say,  a  serious  and  wide-spread 
revolution — after  seeing  some  of  our  old  certainties 
smashed : 

"  When  the  revolution  broke  out  in  Russia  we  all  smiled 
to  ourselves  and  said:  'No,  that  is  impossible  with  us — 
us  orderly  Germans.  Never  will  it  reach  here.'  And 
then  a  year  later  the  same  thing  was  with  us.  Unbe- 
lievable! And  the  radicals  and  the  reactionaries  have 
been  much  harder  to  put  down  than  the  papers  say.  Who 
knows  they  are  down  yet — that  the  new  government  can 
control  them  ?  And  the  cost  of  living  and  the  mark  that 
loses  its  value  at  a  word  from  the  great  bankers — what 
are  we  coming  to?" 

With  the  republican  government  in  power  there  ap- 
pears to  be  little  if  any  of  the  long-hour  working-day  so 
widely  mentioned  in  France.  Perhaps  a  few  try  to  work 
two  eight-hour  turns,  but  not  many.  Here  as  in  France 
and  Belgium  the  unions  are  divided  against  themselves 
on  lines  of  both  religion  and  politics.  Among  the  dis- 
trict's 530,000  miners  (of  a  total  in  the  country  of  about 
1,300,000)  are  a  dozen  and  more  different  divisions — cer- 
tainly enough  to  try  any  labor  manager.  All  things  con- 
sidered, including  the  installation  of  a  seven-hour  day  in 
the  mines,  the  production  is  considered  very  good — even 
with  the  leader  of  one  of  the  largest  unions  off  at  Berlin 
in  conference  about  a  wage  increase.  In  any  and  all 
events,  this  Ruhr  is  one  of  the  world's  prize  industrial 


GERMANY'S  "PITTSBURGH  DISTRICT"       137 

areas.  Besides  having  coal  under  the  factory,  the  world's 
most  tamed  and  industrialized  river  runs  past  the  front 
gate.  No  wonder  Essen,  Diisseldorf,  Crefeld,  Solingen, 
and  others  are  names  that  stand  for  far-flung  lines  hi 
the  field  of  the  world's  commerce.  Its  great  lack  appears 
to  be  the  "white  coal"  of  convenient  water-power.  Not 
very  far  away,  for  instance,  the  locks  of  the  canal  that 
goes  toward  Hamburg  are  operated  by  screws  instead  of 
water,  because  the  canal  lacks  the  needed  flow. 

What  is  most  puzzling  is  how  in  such  limited  geography 
— with  Germany,  France,  and  Belgium  together  hardly 
more  than  half  again  as  big  as  Texas ! — there  can  be  so 
huge  a  volume  of  psychology!  Most  of  the  men  here 
are  husky  and  many  are  huge  as  compared  with  the 
French.  This  is  perhaps  to  be  charged  partly  to  Napo- 
leon and  the  death-rate  of  his  victorious  ( ! )  warriors — • 
besides  the  difference  of  early  habitat  in  the  north  for 
the  Germans  and  in  the  south  for  the  French.  Possibly 
the  difficulty  that  we  Americans  have  in  understanding 
Europe  and  her  troubles  is  that  it  is  practically  impossible 
for  us  to  conceive  either  the  number  or  the  wide  varia- 
tions of  view-points  and  aspirations  which  climate,  geog- 
raphy, and  history  have  thus  contrived  to  give  the  dif- 
ferent peoples  here — besides  pushing  them  all  together 
onto  each  other's  toes  and  up  against  each  other's  elbows. 
Yet  every  time  I  cross  a  frontier,  I  get  the  feeling  that 
these  groups  have  not  had  anything  like  a  genuinely 
close  contact  with  each  other  over  any  great  length  of 
time.  The  development  of  a  commerce  which  really 
brings  them  together  has  been  of  comparatively  recent 
date.  Furthermore,  the  difference  of  language  serves 


138    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

not  only  to  hold  apart  the  foreign-born  laborers  hi  France, 
for  instance,  from  the  native  population,  but  also  to  re- 
strict the  commercial  relationships  to  the  comparatively 
small  number  who  can  get  either  the  time  or  the  money 
to  develop  the  desired  facility  of  expression.  It  is,  of 
course,  the  pockets  into  which  these  hills  and  rivers  have 
divided  the  continent  that  have  served  for  so  many  cen- 
turies to  maintain  these  differences  in  language.  Per- 
haps the  recent  and  present  amazing  increase  hi  com- 
munications of  all  sorts  will  lessen  the  effectiveness  of 
these  national  limits  and  boundaries,  and  so  gradually 
wear  down  and  overcome  the  psychological  pockets  which 
they  have  caused.  In  that  case,  the  change  into  inter- 
nationalism or  into,  say,  a  more  friendly  form  of  federated 
nationalism,  may  come  much  more  quickly  than  we  ex- 
pect, because  these  communications  are  now  increasing 
with  the  speed  of  geometrical  rather  than  arithmetical 
ratio.  That  speed,  over  here,  however,  encounters  an 
enormous  check  at  every  one  of  these  boundaries.  A 
few  days  ago  I  wired  Paris  regarding  mail  and  blithely 
looked  for  an  answer  that  afternoon.  Later  they  said  that 
nothing  could  be  expected  within  twenty-four  hours,  and 
yet  Paris  fe  only  a  few  hours  away — according  to  geog- 
raphy. I  find  to  my  amazement  that  my  third-class  fare 
from  there  to  here  is  less  than  six  dollars!  No  wonder 
the  railways  are  losing  money — even  though  they  have 
not  yet  come  back  to  anything  like  pre-war  speeds  and 
schedules. 

One  thing  is  sure.  Germany  is  adding  to  the  r  *tural 
difficulties  of  these  boundaries  an  additional  wall  of  men- 
tal and  emotional  offishness.  All  during  the  years  of  the 


GERMANY'S  "PITTSBURGH  DISTRICT"      139 

war  she  was,  naturally,  cut  off  from  any  news  about  the 
rest  of  us.  If  the  war  was  for  France  the  "  Great  Mix- 
uption,"  it  was  for  Germany  the  " Great  Isolation." 
Now,  much  as  in  the  case  of  France,  her  feeling  of  self- 
pity  makes  her  believe  that  nobody  else's  troubles  are 
worth  talking  about.  So  the  whole  people  seems  to  have 
very  much  the  same  attitude  of  distrust  and  presumption 
that  led  to  her  pre-war  policy  of  friendship  by  compul- 
sion, not  by  good-will.  Few  appear  as  yet  to  believe  that 
perhaps  the  best  way  to  get  elbow  space  in  the  crowded 
room  of  enemies  might  be  to  try  to  turn  these  enemies 
into  friends.  In  spite  of  her  delight  in  "Welt-Politik," 
the  country  still  appears  to  use  logic  rather  than  informa- 
tion and  sympathy  in  coming  at  a  practical  knowledge 
of  other  peoples. 

Unfortunately — also  quite  naturally — "the  hurt  that 
honor  feels  "  prevents  such  a  plan  of  friend-making  from 
occurring  at  once  to  the  child  who  has  just  been  made 
to  go  over  and  stand  in  the  corner  of  that  same  crowded 
room. 


CHAPTER  X 

"HAIL  COLUMBIA  UEBER  ALLES!" 

Coblenz, 

Tuesday  morning, 
August  23. 

THIS  place  is  almost  like  a  return  ticket  to  the  States. 
Our  dough-boys  in  their  neat  khaki  uniforms  are  to  be 
seen  on  every  side — especially,  it  must  be  said,  on  the 
sunny  side  of  every  attractive  native  Fraulein.  Evidently 
there  will  be  many  German  wives  going  to  America  be- 
fore long. 

"My  father,  you  see,  was  a  Dane,"  so  one  of  the  boys 
told  about  the  complexity  of  being  an  American  over 
here — or  elsewhere,  "from  somewhere  up  in  the  Holstein 
part  that  Germany  grabbed  a  long  time  ago.  My  mother 
was  a  Swede.  We  all  went  out  to  America  in  1910.  I 
can't  get  into  the  big  war  while  it's  on,  you  see,  because 
I've  only  got  my  first  papers.  But  as  soon  as  they  open 
up  enlistments,  I  come  over  here  for  my  two  years.  Be- 
lieve me,  I'm  going  to  take  a  fine  girl  home  with  me — 
back  to  Iowa  where  there's  the  best  land  in  the  world 
and  where  I'm  going  to  run  it  and  run  it  right.  .  .  .  Yes, 
I  had  a  nice  girl  back  home,  but  a  few  months  ago  what 
does  she  do  but  turn  up  over  here,  and  she  not  writin' 
to  me  once!  'What  you  doin'  here?'  she  says.  'Well/ 
I  says,  'you  see  I'm  here,  don't  you?'  I  says.  'I'm  mar- 
ried now,'  she  comes  at  me.  'Yes,  and  I  wish  you  luck/ 

140 


"HAIL  COLUMBIA  UEBER  ALLES!"          141 

I  says  .  .  .  and  I  turned  away.  That's  the  kind  she 
is.  ...  But  I  got  a  better  one,  anyway,  I'll  say." 

German-American  treaties  are  evidently  being  written 
all  over  the  place. 

"Why,  these  girls  over  here,"  so  a  lieutenant  later 
registered  his  international  experience  and  judgment; 
"they  stake  you  to  a  meal  when  you  want  it.  Back  hi 
the  States  I  had  a  girl — and  I  spent  a  lot  of  money  on 
her,  too,  y'understand  ? — and  one  time  she  wants  me 
to  take  her  to  the  theatre  and  everything,  and  I  tell  her 
I  got  no  money.  Just  that  night,  that  was,  see? — be- 
cause I  had  $800  in  the  bank  all  the  time,  but  I  was  gettin' 
a  little  tired  of  always  puttin'  up.  So  I  says,  Til  be  glad 
to  go  as  your  guest,'  and  what  do  you  think  she  tells  me? 
— No.  She  ain't  got  no  money!  And  all  the  time  she 
was  gettin'  $175  a  month  on  her  job!  So  I  says,  'Oh, 
that's  it,  is  it?'  I  says.  'After  all  I've  spent  on  you  for 
two  years  and  you  hain't  no  money!  All  right,'  I 
says,  Tm  done.  I'm  done!'  I  says.  And  I've  never 
seen  her  since — and  never  mean  to.  I  talk  a  little  Ger- 
man and  I'm  goin'  to  stay  here  with  the  one  I've  picked 
out.  Buyin'  and  sellin'  things  on  the  side — that's  my 
line — what  they  call  here  Schuebra — that's  German,  y'un- 
derstand,  for  war  profiteer.  .  .  .  How  do  I  pick  up  things 
to  sell  to  Americans?  Well,  now,  that's  what  I  ain't 
tellin'.  But,  believe  me,  I'm  goin'  to  have  $30,000  in 
my  pocket  if  I  can  keep  at  it  a  little  longer.  Then  you'll 
see  my  smoke,  I'm  tellin'  you!" 

It  has  been  surprising  to  hear  that  Americans  get  along 
with  the  natives  here  better  than  with  the  French  or 
even  the  British  soldiers  of  whom  a  few  occasionally  come 


142    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

along  on  visits  from  Cologne.  The  explanation  is  doubt- 
less that  the  French  and  British  do  not  feel  that  they 
need  to  give  way  to  the  Yankees,  seeing  that  they  have 
all  been  allies  on  the  front  line.  The  Germans  are  in 
no  position  to  make  an  argument;  they  must  yield.  Kegs 
or  barrels  get  along  with  the  rope  cushions  used  for  un- 
loading them  better  than  with  the  pavement.  The  cush- 
ions give  under  pressure;  the  pavement  doesn't. 

At  the  office  of  the  Interallied  High  Commission,  an 
American  official  tells  of  the  street-car  men's  requesting 
an  Arbitration  Board  for  wage  and  similar  problems. 
The  average  worker  earns  only  forty  marks  after  some 
years  of  service.  Though  these  buy  much  more  here 
than  does  forty-five  cents  at  home,  nevertheless  they 
hardly  make  one  happy  anywhere — especially  after  stand- 
ing a  tax  of  10  per  cent  and  other  deductions  for  accident 
insurance,  old  age  pensions,  etc. 

"I  can  see  no  reason,"  the  official  continued,  "why 
the  Germans  should  not  let  the  mark  go  down  indefinitely. 
Somehow  or  other  they  manage  to  exist  with  it.  Besides, 
they  can  sell  more  goods  in  foreign  markets  with  a  cheap 
mark  than  with  a  dearer  one.  About  a  year  ago  they 
decided  to  put  their  money  back  to  something  like  its 
proper  value.  They  did  not  raise  it  much,  but  enough 
to  bring  in  from  all  over  the  world  sheaves  of  cancella- 
tions which  proceeded  to  close  up  the  country's  factories. 
Now  nobody  seems  to  know  what  to  do.  If  they  close 
many  factories  and  produce  wide-spread  unemployment, 
they  may  have  a  revolution.  It's  a  hard  proposition." 

In  one  of  the  country's  most  important  commercial 
papers,  963  is  given  as  in  the  index  figure  for  the  cost  of 


"HAIL  COLUMBIA  UEBER  ALLES!"          143 

living  in  July  as  compared  with  pre-war — making  it  the 
dearest  month  of  any  with  the  possible  exception  of  Jan- 
uary, 1921. 

"It  is  inconceivable,"  one  of  its  editorials  argues,  "that 
any  state  should  be  willing  thus  by  conscious  inflation  to 
plan  purposely  to  make  itself  and  its  entire  people  poorer. 
To  all  who  think,  furthermore,  it  is  evident  that  what- 
ever value  such  depreciation  might  have  is  lessened  by 
the  fact  that  this  policy — like  morphine — demands  con- 
stantly a  larger  dose  in  order  to  secure  the  same  result." 

It  is  plain  enough  that  Germany  is  a  long  way  from 
the  prosperous  and  healthy  country  she  has  been  reported. 
An  industrial  activity  so  manifestly  built  upon  financial 
and  economic  poverty  is  hardly  to  be  feared  as  perma- 
nently as  many  at  home  appear  to  assume.  What  the 
answer  is,  economically  or  politically,  nobody  appears  to 
know. 

Considering  that  my  clothes  give  the  idea  of  a  good 
deal  of  a  tramp,  one  of  the  important  American  officers 
here  has  been  extremely  considerate  in  opening  his  mind: 

"Yes,  I'm  a  soldier  but  I  preach  peace  all  the  time — 
because  I  know  war  too  well.  But  I'll  admit  such  preach- 
ing is  hard  here  in  a  country  where  a  lot  of  fighting  has 
been  done  over  a  long,  long  time.  For  instance,  the 
French  troops  have  their  headquarters  up  at  Treves,  not 
far  from  here.  Well,  the  Romans  had  their  headquarters 
at  exactly  the  same  place  when  they  came  in  centuries 
ago.  Long  after  that — somewhere  around  843 — a  treaty 
that  held  for  a  long  time  was  signed  over  at  Verdun,  not 
far  away.  So  it  goes — with  old  Father  Tune  skipping 
across  the  centuries  from  one  high  spot  of  a  war  to  another, 


144    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

back  and  forth  all  over  this  whole  territory.  .  .  . 
Whether  France  with  her  low  birth-rate,  in  addition  to 
her  20,000,000  less  population  than  the  Germans,  can 
brace  up  permanently  enough  to  keep  Germany  off  her 
back — that's  a  question.  You  see,  they  all  live  so  close 
to  each  other  over  here.  People  don't  have  any  trouble 
if  they  can  somehow  contrive  to  get  along  without  any 
dealings  with  each  other.  It's  when  they  have  to  have 
relations — whether  they  want  to  or  not — that  the  situa- 
tion becomes  dangerous. 

"Of  course,  the  German  generals  did  not  need  to  lay 
down  their  arms  if  they  did  not  like  the  terms  submitted 
to  them  by  General  Foch  there  in  the  private  car  that 
morning  hi  the  woods  up  near  the  front,"  he  went  on 
when  I  asked  his  idea  about  "the  Great  Betrayal."  "The 
Fourteen  Points  may  have  figured  with  the  German  popu- 
lation, but  the  agreement  there  in  the  car  was  a  military, 
not  a  civil,  affair.  And  the  German  army  still  had  their 
weapons  that  morning,  too. 

"Many  Americans  have  wondered  why  General  Foch 
did  not  pursue  the  enemy  to  Berlin.  To  that  the  old 
warrior  answers,  'I  should  have  done  so  if  the  Germans 
had  refused  certain  of  the  conditions  laid  down  there 
in  the  car.  To  have  gone  farther  would  have  cost  thou- 
sands of  lives:  it  would  have  been  justified  only  if  the 
enemy  could  be  made  to  sign  in  Berlin  terms  they  would 
not  sign  in  France.  The  trouble  was,  accordingly,  that 
then-  generals  signed — and  signed  without  delay — con- 
ditions for  a  truce  which  included  every  single  require- 
ment I  could  possibly  think  of  there — or  later  in  Berlin !' 

"Nevertheless,  I  personally  think  the  Grand  Marshal 


"HAIL  COLUMBIA  UEBER  ALLES!"          145 

made  perhaps  one  single  mistake.  He  allowed  the  Ger- 
man army  to  retain  its  arms.  I  have  noticed  that  when- 
ever soldiers  go  back  home  carrying  their  guns,  the  home- 
town girls  insist  upon  hanging  garlands  on  them — if  for 
nothing  else  than  to  lessen  the  sting  of  defeat.  Before 
long  the  garlanded  heroes  get  to  thinking  that  they  won 
the  battle  after  all." 

Yesterday  morning  the  crowds  of  Germans  in  the  train 
up  north  made  surprisingly  little  comment  upon  the  in- 
conveniences of  stopping  when  we  entered  the  occupied 
area  at  Duisberg.  The  British  Tommies,  also,  used  the 
best  of  tact  in  handling  the  situation.  Of  them  there 
and  at  Cologne,  as  of  the  Americans  here  and  the  Belgians 
farther  north,  there  appears  to  be  surprisingly  little  com- 
plaint. Here,  apparently,  what  worries  the  merchants 
and  business  men  most  is  neither  the  presence  of  our 
soldiers  nor  the  lessening  of  business  through  their  later 
possible  withdrawal,  but  the  lack  of  water  in  the  Rhine ! 
Its  present  level  is  lower  than  for  many  years — with  very 
unhappy  results  on  the  traffic  upon  which  the  district 
largely  depends. 


CHAPTER  XI 
"MORT  POUR  LA  FRANCE"— FRENCH  UNKNOWNS 

Longwy,  France, 
Tuesday  night, 
August  23. 

THE  day  has  furnished  a  kind  of  railway  lesson  in  this 
part  of  the  world's  past  and  present  history.  The  trip 
here  from  Coblenz  "over"  Treves  and  Thionville — in 
German,  it  is  Diederhofen ! — ought  to  be  a  simple  matter 
of  a  few  hours,  so  far  as  distance  is  concerned.  Every 
phase  of  its  actuality,  however,  makes  it  a  journey  into 
a  far  country.  Last  night  an  intelligent-looking  woman 
at  the  Coblenz  railway  window — put  there  evidently 
for  helping  American  soldiers — gave  an  entirely  wrong 
"steer"  about  the  trip,  just  as  if  it  had  been  into  a  far- 
off  land.  The  German  time-tables,  likewise,  come  to  an 
abrupt  stop  at  the  last  German  town,  furnishing  no  idea 
whatever  as  to  what  happens  after  that.  When  we 
reached  it,  we  had  to  get  out  and  be  examined  to  see 
whether  we  should  pay  export  duty  upon  our  baggage — 
also  whether  our  passports  showed  we  had  a  right  to  leave 
the  country.  Ten  minutes  later  we  had  to  dismount  at 
the  first  station  in  Alsace-Lorraine  to  see  what  import 
duties  we  should  pay  for  entering  France.  Also  whether 
our  passports  gave  us  a  right  to  come  in.  At  the  start 
my  fellow  travellers  were  German: 

"Some  time  we  will  even  up  with  the  French  for  all 
the  dreadful  things  they  do  to  us  now.  By  us  now  there 

146 


"MORT  POUR  LA  FRANCE"  147 

are  many  French  who  do  business  in  our  country,  but 
never  would  a  German  think  of  doing  business  in  France. 
Never !  ( ? )  Why  should  they  fear  us  so  ?  We  have  no 
weapons,  no  money,  no  power — no  anything.  All  is  gone. 
.  .  .  And  life  is  so  costly !  The  railway  rates,  they  are 
colossal,  also — and  our  railways  they  cost  the  govern- 
ment a  loss  of,  this  year,  fully  10,000,000,000  of  marks ! 
That  is  because  so  much  material  is  stolen — no,  not  by 
the  French,  by  the  railroad  workers  themselves.  Quite 
true  that  they  are  not  paid  well,  still  they  should  not 
steal.  Besides,  there  are  too  many  of  them.  The  govern- 
ment has  at  least  two  for  every  one  job,  is  it  not  so?" 

Those  who  took  their  places  at  Treves  spoke  French 
a  little  better  than  German: 

"All  of  us  are  loyal  French  here  in  Lorraine — except 
those  who  live  near  the  German  border.  Down  in  Alsace 
— well,  that's  different.  They  speak  mostly  German  and 
don't  like  the  French  so  well." 

A  little  later,  the  station  at  Thionville  gave  the  French 
"feel"  again — French  money,  French  newspapers,  French 
novels,  and  better-dressed  women  in  the  restaurants — 
and  smaller  French  men. 

Here  this  evening  in  the  beginnings  of  the  Ardennes 
district,  this  iron  town  is  hardly  an  attractive  place.  The 
landlady  of  the  inn  does  not  appear  to  like  my  looks. 
She  asks  repeatedly  whether,  like  most  of  her  patrons, 
I  am  here  for  to-morrow's  market  in  the  main  square. 
I  can't  see  that  I  appear  much  dirtier  than  either  her 
husband,  the  market  farmers,  or  the  local  workers.  The 
blast-furnaces  on  all  sides  seem  to  employ  laborers  from 
Italy,  Spam,  and  various  other  countries.  At  the  post- 


148    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

office  door,  a  woman  asked  if  I  wasn't  looking  for  a  work- 
man's room  and  board.  She  was  evidently  as  sorry  to 
hear  as  I  was  to  tell  her  that  I  could  not  stay  long  enough 
to  get  a  job.  Just  now  the  bugles  from  the  barracks  have 
been  giving  what  appears  the  characteristic  sound  of 
France,  indeed,  the  characteristic  sound,  I  fancy,  of  all 
Europe.  At  the  table  my  French  companions  gave  the 
reason  for  the  sound  in  the  sincerity  of  their  fear  and 
hopelessness : 

" France? — alas,  but  our  beloved  France  is  finished! 
She  can  never  return.  War !  We  must  somehow  get  rid  of 
it.  Otherwise  the  world,  too,  is  finished.  .  .  .  The  League 
of  Nations — how  can  it  be  anything  with  no  army  to  com- 
pel order — also  with  the  United  States  outside  of  it  ?  ... 
Somebody  must  be  profiting  from  the  low  value  of  the 
franc  and  the  mark.  Certainly,  too,  the  people  do  not 
want  this  bothersome  thing  they  call  exchange.  Why 
do  we  tolerate  it — if  not  to  please  the  money  captains? 
The  government,  they  are  blockheads.  Besides  not  know- 
ing, they  also  care  not.  .  .  .  Now,  if  we  could  use  French 
coke,  our  situation  here  would  be  better.  But  we  must 
buy  it  from  the  dreadful  Germans — perhaps,  though,  that 
helps  us  sell  them  our  ore  and  our  iron.  .  .  .  Why  did 
they  attack  us  ?  Wliat  had  we  done  ?  Why  does  America 
not  help  Europe?" 

Perhaps  to-morrow  will  make  the  answer  look  easier, 
though  I  doubt  it. 

Verdun, 

Wednesday,  August  24. 

It  is  amazing  how  hard  it  is  to  get  away  from  the  psy- 
chology of  war  in  the  midst  of  the  practical  common- 
places of  peaceful  industry. 


"MORT  POUR  LA  FRANCE "  149 

To-night,  to  be  sure/  I  am  almost  camping  in  the 
tumbled-down  ruins  of  Verdun — there  is  little  to  speak 
of  in  the  way  of  the  reconstitution  here.  Electric  lights 
serve  in  the  little  bedrooms,  but  they  have  not  yet  been 
put  into  the  streets  where,  on  all  sides,  the  open  fronts 
of  some  houses  and  the  ruins  of  others  stand  like  ghosts 
in  the  darkness. 

But  most  of  the  day  has  been  spent  among  the  blast- 
furnaces, and  near  the  iron-mines  for  which  the  Longwy 
district  is  famous.  This  morning  at  one  of  the  larger 
plants  to  which  an  Italian  worker  directed  me,  the  door- 
keeper needed  no  priming  to  talk  about  the  subject  most 
in  his  mind,  and  everybody  else's: 

"It  was  not  so  bad  here  as  in  Belgium — me,  I  am  Bel- 
gian, you  understand.  There  they  killed  nearly  300  citi- 
zens in  one  small  village — one  I  used  to  know  well.  If 
any  one,  young  or  old,  failed  to  answer  any  question 
quickly — zut! — with  the  revolver,  like  that — dead!  A 
woman  here — a  very  fine  woman — has  told  me.  Before 
her  eyes  her  son  was  picked  up — yes,  like  this — by  the 
head,  you  understand? — given  a  shake  and  then  thrown 
down  while  she  looked  on — dead !  They  are  not  human,  I 
assure  you !  .  .  .  And  here — here  we  starved — for  four 
years.  Four  kilogrammes,  that's  perhaps  a  few  pounds, 
is  it  not  ?  Yes,  four  kilos  of  potatoes,  only,  for  a  year ! 
The  pears  and  apples  in  our  gardens — nothing  for  us  to 
touch,  I  assure  you — all  for  our  captors.  And  if  we  went 
out  and  brought  back  perhaps  a  pound  of  potatoes,  the 
soldiers  took  them  away.  Always  hungry — always  hun- 
gry— and  yet  we  had  to  work  every  day. 

"In  October,  1918,  they  started  away  but  always  in 
their  places  came  others.  So  we  knew  nothing.  When 


150    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

finally  at  four  one  day  the  last  was  gone,  we  expected 
their  friends.  But  at  eight,  the  first  Americans !  They 
come  and  they  tell  us  what  has  happened !  Oh,  but  how 
they  are  fine,  those  Americans !  We  find  beds  for  them. 
Yes,  my  wife  and  children,  we  sleep  on  the  floor — so 
gladly!  Ah,  but  brave  lads  they  are!  And  when  they 
go,  these  Americans,  they  pay  us  one  hundred  francs. 
Imagine  it !  We  were  rich ! — and,  besides,  they  leave  us 
bread  and  chocolate.  Yes,  also  some  jam.  Ah,  but  we 
shall  never  forget  them!" 

The  company  official  spoke  almost  with  tears  of  the 
new  machines  which  had  arrived  just  before  hostilities, 
and  which  were  smashed  to  smithereens  in  their  boxes. 
All  kinds  of  new  installations  had  been  put  into  operation 
only  one  month  before  the  war,  but  were  completely 
ruined  before  the  invaders  left. 

"WThile  we  were  rebuilding  we  employed  Chinese,  Rus- 
sians, and  Spaniards,  as  well  as  Moroccans  and  Algerians. 
Now  we  have  about  as  many  Italians  as  French  and  about 
half  as  many  Belgians.  While  here,  the  invaders  de- 
stroyed the  upper  town.  Perhaps  when  they  left  they 
were  fearful  that  some  day  they  might  have  to  pay.  At 
any  rate,  they  left  the  lower  town  in  order — but  none  of 
the  plants." 

In  a  near-by  blast-furnace  it  was  surprising  to  come 
upon  great  train-loads  of  coke,  every  car  of  which  was 
marked,  " Direct  from  Essen." 

"Five-a  year  in  Buenos  Aires — build-a  beeg  street. 
Seex-a  year  in  Boston,  help  make-a  da  subway.  Twenty- 
free  year  here,  and  never  go  away  except  go  home 
veesit." 


"MORT  POUR  LA  FRANCE"  151 

So  an  Italian  boss  gave  his  history  while  superintend- 
ing the  energies  of  other  Italians  and  Spaniards  unloading 
the  coke  into  the  bins  from  which  the  furnaces  were 
charged. 

The  living  conditions  could  easily  cause  much  unhap- 
piness.  At  the  public  wash-house  in  an  iron-mine  town, 
women  were  scrubbing  lustily.  In  the  homes  an  abun- 
dance of  dirt  was  visible  from  the  street.  Wells  were 
locked  with  padlocks  except  at  certain  hours.  The  sani- 
tary arrangements  certainly  leave  much  to  be  desired. 
All  that  is  only  in  tune  with  the  numerous  pitifully 
wounded  blast-furnaces,  their  steel  work  on  the  ground, 
great  holes  in  their  brick  walls.  The  marvellous  thing 
here — as  in  the  north — is  that  the  inhabitants  have  gone 
as  far  as  they  have  in  the  work  of  restoration.  The  first 
sign  of  anything  more  than  the  mildest  of  protests  oc- 
curred this  afternoon.  The  newspaper  carried  a  letter 
signed  by  a  body  of  citizens  stating  that  they  have  lost 
all  and  have  so  far  received  nothing  except  the  tiniest 
of  barracks;  that  after  repeated  requests  nothing  has 
yet  been  done  toward  repairing  the  roofs  of  these;  that 
unless  something  is  done  they  must  face  the  necessity 
this  winter  of  sleeping  in  their  beds  under  umbrellas ! 

Meanwhile  the  greater  sufferings  of  the  war-time  it- 
self are  recalled  by  various  anniversaries.  Exactly  seven 
years  ago  this  week  the  district  was  occupied.  Among 
300  killed  in  the  iron  country  on  August  22,  1914,  were 
the  son  of  General  Foch  and  the  son-in-law  of  M.  Viviani. 

A  local  paper  announces  the  intention  of  Judge  Gary 
to  visit  this  district  in  1922,  and  makes  the  statement 
that  his  corporation  and  this  district  furnish  together 


152    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

84  per  cent  of  the  world's  iron  ore.  In  spite  of  the  size 
of  the  pits  seen  to-day  above  ground  and  below,  that 
sounds  more  like  local  pride  than  reliable  information. 

As  we  ran  out  of  the  iron  country  toward  Verdun,  only 
a  few  pennies  away,  the  ruined  houses  became  more 
numerous  and  miles  of  dilapidated  trenches  followed 
shortly  after.  Later  as  we  passed  the  waste  land  where 
the  trees  stood  like  poles,  and  where  every  foot  of  the 
hillside  had  been  burrowed  for  its  mite  of  protection  from 
bombardment,  tears  stood  in  the  eyes  of  all.  To-morrow 
favors  a  visit  to  the  battle-field.  Meanwhile  the  im- 
pression I  take  to  bed  is  partly  of  the  amazing  hopefulness 
which  can  walk  in  upon  such  wastes  of  warfare  and  take 
up  the  burdens  of  peace.  Alongside  that,  unfortunately, 
is  the  thought  of  the  future  wars  which  are  in  the  minds 
of  so  many  of  those  who  now  are  busy  in  the  works  of 
restoration  and  of  peace. 

"  There  at  Fashoda  the  English  were  opposed  to  us  just 
as  they  are  against  us  now  in  the  Orient  and  in  this  Upper 
Silesia  matter."  So  a  man  from  Strassburg  was  talking 
in  the  inn.  "You  recall  what  dreadful  coal  we  had  when 
it  came  from  England,  yes?  And  with  the  Irish,  are  the 
English  not  handling  the  whole  thing  badly?  Why  can't 
they  let  us  have  all  of  Upper  Silesia  that  we  can  get? 
Mon  Dieu,  do  we  not  need  it,  if  ever  we  are  to  stand  up 
against  the  boche?  .  .  .  My  first  wife  in  Strassburg 
was  French;  my  second,  German.  Do  the  Alsatians  love 
France  or  Germany?  Well  .  .  ."  (business  of  shaking 
right  hand  with  the  palm  now  up,  now  down). 

What's  the  answer?  It  looks  even  more  hopeless  than 
last  night. 


"MORT  POUR  LA  FRANCE"  153 

P.  S. — The  afternoon's  various  changes  from  Longwy 
have  furnished  time  to  read  the  announcement  of  a  15- 
20  per  cent  freight  reduction  for  fruits  and  vegetables 
during  the  month  of  August — in  the  effort  for  lower  living 
costs.  Evidently  an  advantage  of  the  close  connection 
between  government  and  transportation.  But  at  one 
small  station,  twenty-one  railway  workers  of  various  de- 
grees of  importance  were  visible  at  the  same  time,  none 
being  engaged  at  the  moment  in  anything  more  wearying 
than  conversation.  In  this  area  the  railroads  are  not 
directly  under  state  control,  but  a  traveller  finds  it  easy 
to  believe  that  national  laws  have  been  helpful  to  the 
same  overmanning  mentioned  yesterday  by  the  Germans. 

In  the  compartment  this  afternoon,  by  the  way,  the 
wife  of  an  Italian  laborer  and  a  young  Italian  girl  from 
Venice  who  is  selling  small  articles  among  the  Italians  in 
Longwy  and  in  Luxemburg  a  few  miles  away,  offered  me 
cigarettes  of  such  good  quality  that  I  was  ashamed  when 
my  turn  came  to  furnish  my  own.  Evidently  they  and 
their  relatives  have  been  profiting  from  France's  need  of 
workers. 

Verdun, 
Thursday,  25th. 

The  footlessness  of  fighting — that  is  the  dreadful  lesson 
furnished  by  a  morning  amid  the  vast  hills  and  valleys 
of  human  and  material  wreckage  which  surround  this 
town.  No  other  heights  in  all  the  world  constitute  so 
vast  a  mortuary.  For  these  enclose  the  bones  of  a  mil- 
lion  men!  Those  that  "laid  them  down  in  their  last 
sleep,"  in  "the  continuous  wood  where  rolls  the  Oregon," 
were  blessed  at  least  with  the  friendly  tears  and  reveren- 


154    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

tial  rites  of  decent  burial.  Here,  to  be  sure,  are  rows 
and  rows  of  white  crosses  that  denote  interment,  but  other 
hundreds  of  thousands  lie  where  they  fell — or  where  their 
pieces  were  blown — covered,  but  unburied.  The  reason 
is  that  they  were  covered  too  many  times.  The  covering 
furnished  peace  and  protection  only  until  the  next  shell 
came  over ! 

As  we  walked  the  pathways  through  the  small  forest 
of  crosses,  groups  of  French  fathers,  mothers,  and  sisters 
found  their  way  one  by  one  to  this  or  that  grave,  where 
they  knelt  in  tears  as  they  found  the  sought-for  name 
written  above  the  words,  "Mort  pour  la  France."  Sadder 
much  than  these  thus  honored  were  the  thousands  of 
crosses  that  bore  no  name — merely  "Frangais  Inconnu" 
More  dreadful  still,  if  possible,  were  the  other  thousands 
that  bore  the  plural — "Frangais  Inconnus!"  Evidently 
a  few  fragments  had  been  gathered  together  and  given 
the  honor  of  interment.  Perhaps  the  ultimate  in  the 
way  of  death  and  burial  at  the  post  of  duty  is  represented 
by  those  137  bayonets  which  still  protrude  from  the 
ground.  As  they  stood  guard  in  their  trench,  these  pro- 
tectors of  the  homes  of  France  were  overtaken  with  a 
huge  mine  explosion  which  opened  the  ground  beneath 
them  and  then  instantly  closed  upon  them.  There  be- 
neath those  bayonets  they  watch  and  wait  for  that  reveille 
that  will  sound  the  commencement  of  a  war-less  world. 

"This  is  for  an  officer,  m'sieu7.  See,  it  is  six  inches 
deeper  than  the  others,"  so  one  of  the  dozens  of  Moroccan 
grave-diggers  told  of  his  job — adding  explanation  of  his 
two  francs  for  each  of  nine  hours  and  of  his  five-franc 
boarding-house.  He  has  already  been  here  five  years. 


"MORT  POUR  LA  FRANCE"  155 

Even  during  the  fighting  he  probably  did  much  the  same 
work.  From  the  way  he  spoke  I  judge  he  will  not  be 
glad  to  leave.  Later  I  saw  him  and  his  fellows  standing 
unconcerned  while  a  priest  in  the  midst  of  a  half-dozen 
well-dressed  people  performed  the  last  rites  over  a  rough- 
board  box.  As  the  words  sounded  across  the  field,  punc- 
tuation came  from  the  explosion  of  a  number  of  "duds" 
found  just  beyond  the  brow  of  the  hill.  The  huge  cloud 
of  black  smoke  made  it  easy  to  believe  that  the  battle 
was  still  going  on  between  the  nations,  simply  because 
the  quarrel  has  not  yet  been  settled.  Almost  five  years 
of  burying  bodies  and  exploding  shells — what  a  way  of 
obtaining  bread  and  bed ! 

In  the  midst  of  what  was  once  an  imposing  fort,  it 
seemed  I  was  standing  where  my  soldier  friend  at  Douai 
had  been  entombed  those  four  long  days  and  nights. 
Surrounded  by  the  waste  of  twisted  steel  protruding 
from  huge  blocks  of  concrete  and  the  litter  of  discarded 
shoes,  cartridge  cases,  and  other  paraphernalia  of  organ- 
ized destruction,  it  sounded  strange  indeed  to  hear  the 
jolly  songs  of  a  handful  of  soldiers  quartered  in  the  place. 
The  same  sudden  shock  of  unexpected  and  unseemly  life 
in  death  came  throughout  the  day  as  I  walked  across  No 
Man's  Land  or  over  miles  of  duck-boards  at  the  bottom 
of  trenches  whose  high  walls  were  held  up  by  interwoven 
twigs.  In  such  places  the  silence  is  as  heavy  as  though 
loaded  with  the  memories  of  dead  and  dreadful  doings. 
When  you  turn  one  of  the  sharp  corners  and  a  bird  whirs 
suddenly  up  before  you,  you  come  back  into  the  midst 
of  corporeal  things  with  a  start — jumping  not  out  of  but 
back  into  your  skin !  So,  too,  you  are  almost  pushed  into 


156    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

the  putrid  water  of  the  enormous  shell-holes  by  the  sud- 
denness with  which  the  ghost-crowded  silence  is  punctured 
by  the  staccato  submersion  of  a  frog!  Somewhat  the 
same  shock  comes  also  when,  full  of  many  thoughts,  you 
rejoin  a  group  of  mourners  and  priests  and  find  them 
discussing  train  schedules  and  politics,  eating  meanwhile 
huge  cheese  and  pickle  eandwiches ! 

But  perhaps  all  that  is  not  only  unavoidable  but  right. 
Every  attempt  to  think  continuously  of  death  in  the 
midst  of  life  results  only  in  anomaly  if  not  in  absurdity. 
After  all,  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  life  worthy  the 
name  if  it  concerns  itself  only  with  death.  As  one  monu- 
ment here  reminds,  "to  be  forgotten  in  death  is  twice 
to  die."  Nevertheless,  it  is  certain  that  none  of  the  dead 
here — or  elsewhere — would  care  to  be  so  fully  and  so 
reverently  remembered  that  in  then:  death  they  were 
living  more  vitally  and  worthily  than  their  rememberers 
among  the  living  and  among  the  living's  problems.  It 
is  only  better  living  that  can  make  brave  death  honorable 
and  worthy.  My  chief  complaint  of  one  of  the  great 
religions  is  that,  following  its  precepts,  so  large  a  propor- 
tion of  the  effort  and  solicitude  of  the  living  is  diverted 
toward  the  attempt  to  improve  the  well-being  of  those 
who  are  known  to  have  finished  with  life  but  who  are 
believed  not  yet  to  have  attained  in  death. 

I  wonder  if  these  million  dead  here  are  going  to  at- 
tain what  they  hoped  for  amongst  the  living  they  left 
behind  them.  Without  a  doubt  most  of  them  died  with 
"Long  live  my  country!"  on  their  lips  in  one  language 
or  another.  The  tragedy  is  that  in  spite  of  that  prayer 
there  still  exist  those  hatreds  which  my  last  few  days 


"MORT  POUR  LA  FRANCE"  157 

have  shown  in  the  hearts  of  the  Germans  and  all  those 
fears  which  the  past  few  weeks  have  discovered  in  the 
hearts  of  the  French.  At  any  rate,  it  would  surely  help 
to  that  end  if  somehow  every  American  could  spend  a 
morning  in  the  midst  of  these  silent  miles  of  yellow-wa- 
tered shell-holes,  cruel  barbed-wire  thickets,  rotting  duck- 
boards,  and  crumbling  wastes  of  rusty  steel  and  ruined 
concrete.  Nothing  would  so  help  us  to  come  closer  to 
the  fierce  hatred  of  war  which  I  find  in  all  minds  here 
and  which  we  need  ourselves  in  the  place  of  our  idealistic 
dream  of  the  loveliness  of  peace — a  dream  that  seems 
somehow  to  make  us  offish  and  inactive  in  our  sense  of 
security.  The  preachment  for  peace  given  in  some  of 
the  northern  towns  I  had  thought  effective  enough.  But 
Lens,  for  instance,  simply  shows  destruction  down  to  the 
level  of  the  cellars.  Here  that  stage  is  soon  reached  and 
forgotten. 

"Right  there,  my  friend,  was  the  little  town  you 
named.  Right  there  where  you  see  those  bushes."  It 
sounded  so  unbelievable  that  we  all  walked  over.  Not 
even  a  brick  was  to  be  seen.  First  the  houses  had  been 
brought  low,  then  their  wreckage  had  been  completely 
buried — until  nothing  but  the  slate  and  chalk  of  the  deep 
subsoil  was  to  be  found. 

Surely  there  must  be  ways  of  building  up  reliable 
mechanisms  of  peace — the  organized  means  by  which 
groups  of  people  called  nations  can  secure  the  necessary 
elbow-room  and  save  then*  self-respect  without  having 
always  to  fight  for  it.  Certainly  the  self-respect  of 
these  groups  is  just  as  necessary  and  just  as  insistent  as 
the  self-respect  of  individuals.  Its  requirements  change 


158    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

from  year  to  year  or  age  to  age  in  the  same  way  because 
it  depends  upon  our  comparative  status  with  others.  Its 
obstacles  are  surely  much  the  same  as  between  individuals 
— the  hurt  feelings  that  always  follow  a  lowered  sense  of 
our  importance  and  value  in  the  scheme  of  things. 

Perhaps  if  more  of  us  Americans  had  lived  a  little  closer 
to  Verdun  we  would  to-day  come  closer  to  recognizing 
the  need  of  some  organization  which  would  attempt  to 
make  bayonets  less  necessary — for  saving  people's  and 
nation's  faces  in  the  crowded  room  that  the  new  com- 
munications are  making  of  the  world.  Certainly  no  one 
within  a  thousand  miles  of  the  tragedy  of  Verdun  can 
fail  to  agree  with  Talleyrand  that: 

"You  can  do  every  thing  with  bayonets — except  sit  on 
them." 

This  part  of  the  world,  at  least,  is  certainly  weary 
enough  to  want  to  sit  a  bit  on  something! 


CHAPTER  XII 
IN  "THE  HOT  SPOT  OF  EUROPE" 

Saarbrucken, 
Friday,  August  26. 

IN  "the  hot  spot  of  Europe,"  at  last !  And  by  the  right 
route,  too.  Paris,  Lens,  Essen,  Longwy,  Verdun — all 
these  have  done  their  part  to  raise  this  place's  tempera- 
ture. Also — perhaps  most  of  all — Alsace-Lorraine,  where 
most  of  yesterday  afternoon  was  spent,  much  of  the  tune 
toward  evening  in  the  midst  of  pleasant  farms  and  husky 
country  people  who  spoke  French  to  the  conductor  and 
a  German  patois  to  each  other. 

The  big  steel  town  of  Jceuf-Homecourt  and  others 
near  by  in  France  made  it  appear  highly  proper  to  wipe 
out  the  old  boundary  between  them  and  the  great  iron 
towns  of  Lorraine — much  as  the  railroads  and  steel  plants 
at  home  blot  out  the  State  line  between  Pittsburgh  and 
Youngstown.  Serious  unemployment  has  evidently  not 
yet  struck  any  of  these  centres.  Evidently,  too,  the  new 
officials  are  changing  everything  as  rapidly  as  possible 
for  making  the  district  French  instead  of  German.  Judg- 
ing from  the  size  of  the  blast-furnaces,  it  is  not  strange 
that  France  has  now  become,  next  to  Great  Britain,  the 
greatest  iron-producing  and  steel-making  country  in  Eu- 
rope. 

That  brings  new  difficulties — seeing  that  it  takes  about 
four  tons  of  coal  to  make  a  ton  of  steel.  France's  regular 
shortage  of  20,000,000  tons  of  coal  becomes  all  the  more 

159 


160    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

serious  now  that  she  must  make  more  than  twice  as  much 
Bteel  as  before.  That  is  the  reason,  undoubtedly,  why 
France  is  here  hi  the  Saar  as  the  owner  and  operator  of 
mines  formerly  owned  by  the  German  Government,  with 
the  League  of  Nations  charged  with  maintaining  order 
for  fifteen  years  until  a  plebiscite  determines  whether  the 
district  goes  to  France  or  to  Germany  or  remains  inde- 
pendent. In  other  words,  the  flooded  pits  visited  at  Lens 
are  the  direct  cause  of  the  presence  here  of  the  group  of 
French  engineers  from  whom  I  hope  to  get  a  job  this 
afternoon  at  the  Town  Hall. 

Already  it  looks  like  the  world's  prize  problem  in  the 
field  of  manager  and  man  relations.  After  these  few 
weeks  on  both  sides  of  the  Rhine,  it  is  impossible  to  imag- 
ine anything  harder  than  for  French  superintendents  to 
get  coal  in  efficient  quantities  out  of  German  mines  filled 
with  German  miners !  It  must  be  hard  enough  amongst 
the  part-French  and  part-German  in  Alsace-Lorraine. 

"You  see,  the  big  question  now,"  so  spoke  yesterday 
on  the  train  through  Lorraine  a  French  priest  educated 
in  London — also  in  Germany  during  two  years  as  a  war 
prisoner  following  a  surprise  attack  near  Verdun — "is 
whether  the  clergy  here  will  be  put  on  the  same  status 
as  the  clergy  in  France.  Here  they  have  had  no  state 
church  and,  therefore,  no  state  legislation.  The  status 
quo  was  promised  by  the  French  Government  beforehand. 
But  a  big  movement  is  trying  to  persuade  the  govern- 
ment to  break  its  promise.  In  some  parts  of  the  country, 
an  army  officer  who  goes  once  to  church  is  dismissed 
immediately. 

"Money   and   position — not   religion — these   are   the 


IN  "THE  HOT  SPOT  OF  EUROPE"          161 

causes  of  what  is  called  the  Marriage  of  Four,"  he  con- 
tinued. "All  the  church  can  do  about  it  is  like  pouring 
water  in  a  desert.  Soon  after  the  war  started  people 
were  religious — yes,  more  religious  than  before.  But  it 
lasted  too  long.  It  was  too  terrible.  People  became — 
and  are  still — too  tired  to  make  the  effort — the  spiritual 
effort — that  religion  requires." 

One  of  the  last  scenes  in  the  old  France  yesterday  was 
a  group  of  housewives  doing  the  week's  washing  on  the 
bank  of  a  little  stream  while  husbands  and  sons  fished 
near  by.  How  the  Frenchman  does  love  to  hold  a  pole 
over  water!  Also  how  he  dislikes — evidently — to  put 
water  into  pipes!  The  rest  of  my  life  I  expect  to  be  a 
crank  about  water — water-pipes  and  faucets.  On  the 
whole,  I  can  think  of  no  better  indicator  of  a  population's 
material  comfort  or  its  spiritual  attitude  toward  itself — 
its  self-respect — than  its  attitude  toward  water.  That 
includes  its  point  of  view  toward  pipes  and  faucets,  be- 
cause the  lack  of  these  puts  up  a  wall  of  bodily  effort 
which  seriously  interferes  with  too  free  and  easy  a  rela- 
tionship with  water.  Come  to  think  of  it,  most  of  my 
miseries  during  the  last  few  years  of  adventuring  are 
connected  with  this  matter  of  water-supply — of  com- 
parative pipelessness.  In  one  of  my  two  American  mine- 
towns,  for  instance,  I  got  along  very  well  with  everybody, 
including  the  landlady — probably  because  we  boarders 
had  a  chance  at  a  shower-bath  after  the  day's  work  "in- 
side." In  the  other  town  everybody  had  to  carry  water 
and  we  boarders  had  to  bathe  ourselves,  stripped  to  the 
waist,  on  the  back  porch  or  in  the  little  kitchen.  With- 
out doubt  all  the  dirt  and  discomfort  which  went  with 


162    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

it  had  much  to  do  with  the  ubiquitous  profanity  and 
the  chronic  tiredness  and  temper  which  finally  contrived 
to  put  my  landlady's  fist  in  my  eye.  It  would  be  safe  to 
gamble  that  an  improvement  of  at  least  20  per  cent  could 
be  secured  in  the  factories  and  factory  towns  of  the  whole 
industrial  world  by  installing  nothing  more  imposing 
than  some  hundreds  of  miles  of  water-pipes ! 

And  now  for  the  cleanest  collar  I  can  muster  and  a 
rebrushing  of  my  ancient  coat — it  was  discarded  from 
all  standing  in  my  wardrobe  three  years  ago — in  the 
effort  to  manifest  enough  respectability  to  support  my 
request  of  the  engineers  for  a  close-up  view  of  their  be- 
wildering problem  in  international  industrial  relations. 


Saarbrticken, 
Sunday  evening, 
August  28. 

Good  luck  is  certainly  with  me — as  always.  The  job 
is  mine.  My  German  landlady  has  just  given  her  promise 
to  call  me  without  fail  at  five  to-morrow.  My  French 
overalls — with  my  time-worn  and  fire-tested  heavy  shoes 
and  woollen  socks — are  all  ready  for  a  quick  get-away 
into  the  mines. 

"Tell  the  district  superintendent  that  the  slightest 
wish  of  our  American  visitor  is  to  be  law.  Nothing  of 
any  sort  whatever  is  to  be  kept  from  his  observation 
nor  from  his  closest  possible  contact  with  the  workers  on 
the  basis  he  suggests."  So  instructed  the  recipient  of 
my  letter  after  deciding  to  put  me  at  work  in  one  of  the 
largest  pits. 

Have  just  had  an  enjoyable  twenty-four  hours  with 


IN  "THE  HOT  SPOT  OF  EUROPE"          163 

the  family  of  the  clerk  to  whom  the  officials  referred  me. 
The  establishment  is  a  little  more  respectable  and  com- 
fortable than  could  be  wished,  but  the  view-point  of  my 
host  and  his  foremen  and  miner  friends  has  already 
proved  worth  while. 

This  afternoon  a  good  dozen  of  us  walked  across  the 
Saar  and  into  the  hills  till  we  came  to  a  nest  of  villages 
crowded  with  thousands  of  workers  and  their  families 
in  full  holiday  regalia  for  the  annual  festival  of  the  Ker- 
mess.  The  merry-go-rounds  and  such  things  were  busy, 
but  the  innkeepers  were  much  more  so.  In  several  little 
establishments  there  were  no  seats,  even  though  the  land- 
lord had  expanded  his  facilities  all  over  the  courtyard 
and  the  orchard  as  well  as  out  into  the  narrow  street. 
Amazing  quantities  of  beer — and  it  was  supposed  to  be 
of  pre-war  strength — were  being  consumed  on  all  sides, 
although  comparatively  few  seemed  to  be  much  the  worse 
for  it.  All  the  party,  however,  assured  me  that  the  evi- 
dence of  better — or  at  least,  stronger — spirits  would  in- 
crease as  the  evening  advances.  According  to  my  guides, 
everybody  in  the  district,  young  and  old,  plans  through- 
out the  year  to  have  his  or  her  wardrobe  in  perfect  con- 
dition against  the  coming  of  this  particular  day.  They 
evidently  do  a  good  job  of  it.  In  no  place  in  Germany 
or  Belgium — or,  I'd  say,  even  in  England — have  I  seen 
a  working  population  so  well  dressed  and  prosperous- 
looking.  My  amazement  at  the  cleanliness  of  the  neat 
and  often  newly  whitewashed  homes  of  the  miners  was 
lessened  somewhat  by  the  explanation  given  for  this  as 
for  many  other  things: 

"But,  you  see,  this  is  the  great  day  of  the  year.    Every 


164    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

one  here  plans  regularly  to  put  everything  in  shape  for 
Kermess!" 

Furthermore,  most  of  these  homes,  with  their  vine- 
covered  porches  and  little  plots  of  well-cultivated  ground, 
are  said  to  be  owned  by  the  miners — members  of  families 
that  have  worked  in  the  same  mines  all  during  the  last 
seventy-five  or  one  hundred  years.  The  French  adminis- 
tration is  now  building  new  homes  that  make  an  ex- 
tremely attractive  appearance.  The  rent  asked — fifty 
francs  for  four  rooms — would  not  be  considered  dear 
with  us,  even  without  the  free  coal-supply  which  goes 
with  it,  but  none  of  my  miner  neighbors  considers  it  a 
possible  price.  Saving  enough  to  buy  a  home,  unluckily, 
appears  practically  out  of  the  question:  the  sum  is  too 
prodigious— 120,000  to  150,000  marks!  That  being  so, 
it  leaves  all  the  more  to  be  spent  for  a  good  time  at  Ker- 
mess— and  my  friends  have  come  back  horrified  at  the 
money  evidently  spent  by  some  of  their  young  neighbors 
in  making  a  grand  show.  It  must  be  a  great  place  for 
any  one  to  show  off  his  or  her  new  clothes  because  he 
can  be  absolutely  certain  of  making  all  his  friends  sit 
up  and  take  notice:  from  all  the  villages  for  miles  around 
everybody  is  sure  to  be  there.  The  hands  of  the  young 
ladies  are  apparently  universally  acceptable  to  the  frock- 
coated  and  be-caned  young  fellows  who  walk  with  them. 
Altogether,  there  must  be  something  wrong  with  all  this 
"dope"  spread  about  the  world  concerning  the  unhap- 
piness  of  the  Saar  miners  condemned  to  work  under  the 
hated  French  engineers  for  the  benefit  of  the  hated  French 
Government. 

Everybody  in  my  particular  community — a  few  miles 


IN  "THE  HOT  SPOT  OF  EUROPE"  165 

out  of  the  big  city  itself — is  connected  with  the  mines  in 
one  way  or  another.  Judging  from  our  group  this  after- 
noon, the  population  is  anxious  to  have  the  good-will  of 
America,  though  by  no  means  too  happy  about  our  break- 
ing into  the  party  during  the  late  unpleasantness. 

"Yes,  but  what  kind  of  neutrality  do  you  call  it  when 
you  keep  furnishing  supplies  to  our  enemies?"  one  who 
is  a  mine  foreman  asked  with  a  good  deal  of  bitterness, 
when  I  tried  to  oppose  bis  idea  that  the  whole  war,  espe- 
cially America's  part  of  it,  was  fought  merely  for  the 
benefit  of  the  capitalists,  and  tried  to  explain  that 
America  had  grown  richer  by  being  neutral  than  by  tak- 
ing up  arms. 

"It's  our  politics — our  statesmen  (sniff) — they  are  the 
people  that  brought  you  over  here — and  got  us  into  all 
this  nastiness  and  unhappiness.  .  .  .  And  if,  on  top  of 
it  all,  the  Allies  take  away  our  raw  materials  in  Upper 
Silesia,  then  the  only  thing  we  can  do  is  to  try  to  die  with 
at  least  some  appearance  of  glory — by  scraping  up  what 
arms  we  can  and  trying  to  kill  off  as  many  of  the  hated 
French  as  possible  before  we  fall." 

It  was  only  Friday  that  the  other  side  of  the  picture 
was  painted  by  one  of  the  local  French: 

"So  far  France  has  not  touched  a  franc  of  all  the  mil- 
lions owed  to  us  for  all  the  destruction  you  yourself  have 
already  seen.  But  even  if  she  had  received  every  sou 
of  it,  France  could  never  fully  recover.  .  .  .  And  they 
say  that  we  have  broken  faith  by  asking  this  huge  sum ! 
They  have  the  face  to  claim  that  the  5,000,000,000  francs 
we  had  to  pay  in  1870  was  not  indemnity  but  merely 
expenses !  Then,  as  in  1914,  they  invaded  and  destroyed 


166    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

us  and  we  gained  nothing.  At  that  tune,  too,  they  said: 
'For  each  2,000,000  you  pay  we  will  recede  forty  kilo- 
metres/ Then,  during  the  war,  they  threatened:  'We  will 
ask  500,000,000,000  and  we  will  hold  all  we  have,  Bel- 
gium and  everything,  until  the  last  penny  is  paid/  And 
now  that  the  tables  are  turned  they  weep.  They  cry, 
'We  cannot  pay.  France  is  cruel/  This  France  that 
I  see  so  weakened  that  I  can  hardly  imagine  her  ever 
rising  again  to  her  feet — this  France  is  cruel  and  hateful ! 
How  is  it  possible  to  get  on  with  such  people?" 

It  was  strange  to  listen  at  one  moment  to  such  testi- 
mony— and  it  is  almost  impossible  to  overstate  the  emo- 
tion that  accompanies  and  colors  it — and  then,  a  few 
hours  later,  to  be  so  thoroughly  in  the  midst  of  the  equally 
intense  mood  of  the  other  view-point,  there  by  the 
crowded  tables  beneath  the  trees  of  the  little  inn  of  the 
mining  town.  No  wonder  the  district  has  attained  its  repu- 
tation as  the  meeting-point  of  the  opposing  currents  of 
the  European  muddle.  Down-town  I  see  both  French  and 
German  eating  at  the  same  tables  in  peace,  though  hardly 
in  friendliness.  But  it  is  reported  that  the  French  chil- 
dren in  a  local  private  school  are  occasionally  stoned  by 
the  native  youngsters.  It  is  hard  to  wait  till  to-morrow 
morning  to  learn  whether  these  intense  oppositions  have 
penetrated  the  underground.  At  any  rate,  it  will  be  a 
little  simpler  down  there  to  know  what  to  talk.  Above 
ground — at  least  in  Saarbriicken — you  have  to  consider 
whether  to  use  French  or  German.  It  is  a  tactical 
blunder,  for  instance,  to  use  German  to  ask  a  clerk  how 
to  find  the  door  of  a  French  official's  office — likewise, 
probably,  to  use  French  in  speaking  to  a  French  official's 


IN  "THE  HOT  SPOT  OF  EUROPE"          167 

chauffeur.  Indeed,  it  would  offend  my  French  friends 
if  they  saw  I  had — in  deference  to  my  landlady — dated 
this  entry  Saarbriicken  instead  of  the  French  Sarrebruck. 
But  unless  I  get  some  sleep,  I  won't  be  able  either  to 
keep  neutral  or  to  hold  up  the  reputation  of  an  American 
shovel-wrestler ! 

Monday, 
August  29. 

At  least  my  experience  in  mining  has  been  advanced 
with  the  help  of  one  of  the  most  uncomfortable  jobs  yet. 
Our  vein — down  about  800  feet — was  hardly  four  feet 
thick — not  low  enough  to  favor  hands  and  knees  yet 
not  high  enough  to  permit  standing  up.  To  shovel  and 
move  about  while  making  two  sides  of  a  right-angled 
triangle  of  one's  body — never  straightening  up  except 
by  lying  down ! — gives  something  new  in  the  way  of  dis- 
comfort. I  wonder  how  long  it  would  take  to  make  a 
stranger  as  accustomed  to  it  as  my  miner  friends  ap- 
peared. At  any  rate,  that  operation  made  it  a  joy  to 
practise  the  art  of  taking  down  the  coal  by  kneeling  before 
the  face  of  the  seam,  anchoring  left  elbow  on  the  free 
knee  and  then  using  right  arm  to  work  the  handle  up 
and  down  exactly  like  a  pump.  That  makes  an  immense 
difference  from  trying  to  hold  the  left  elbow  up  in  the 
air  while  working  in  the  narrow  berth  between  roof  and 
floor  and  seam  and  timber. 

The  gang  plan — "Kameradenschaft,"  it's  called — is 
evidently  as  general  here  as  in  France — with  anywhere 
from  ten  to  thirty  men  in  the  group,  each  interested  in 
making  sure  that  every  one  does  his  best.  From  all  the 
day's  talking  and  listening,  the  men  are  working  hard 


168    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

and  are  much  less  discontented  than  I  had  expected  to 
find.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  was  comparatively  little 
time  to  talk,  for  the  cars  kept  coming  to  the  end  of  our 
chute  in  a  way  to  keep  the  whole  crowd  of  us  very  busy. 
Several  young  car-pushers,  representing,  apparently, 
many  parts  of  German-speaking  Europe,  had  all  seen 
more  or  less  service  at  the  front  and  agreed  that,  except 
on  the  very  front  line  in  times  close  to  active  fighting, 
they  had  mostly  gone  hungry.  According  to  them,  the 
average  of  nineteen  to  twenty  francs  per  day  makes  the 
miner  a  better-paid  worker  than  the  district's  steel 
laborers,  but  many  get  too  bad  a  location  to  permit  mak- 
ing anything  like  the  average.  Their  chief  complaint  is 
that  the  benzol  engines  which  take  out  the  loaded  cars 
give  off  a  highly  unpleasant  gas.  Otherwise,  compressed 
air  furnished  power  for  the  air-drills  and  also  for  me- 
chanically moving  the  chutes — helping  to  furnish  what 
look  like  first-rate  working  conditions  befitting  the  Prus- 
sian state  ownership  and  operation  of  pre-war  tunes, 

Riding  in  this  morning  for  a  mile  and  more  with  a  Ger- 
man foreman,  the  chief  impression  was  of  the  slowness  of 
the  train  and  of  the  stiff  dignity  of  the  native  officials.  As 
he  sat  opposite  me  in  an  empty  car,  one  of  these  made 
an  impressive  picture  with  his  high  boots,  his  freshly 
laundered  overalls  and  his  heavy-looking  "  metre  stick/ ' 
This  last  is  typical  of  the  semimilitary  authority  the 
foreman  appears  to  exercise  here,  hi  between  a  good  deal 
of  hat-tipping.  Besides  showing  with  its  brass  tacks 
the  various  fractions  of  a  metre  for  determining  whether 
the  worker  is  obeying  the  mine  regulations  for  inserting 
this  or  that  piece  of  timber  for  the  support  of  the  roof 


IN  "THE  HOT  SPOT  OF  EUROPE"          169 

at  the  proper  distances,  its  iron  ferrule  and  heavy  copper 
head  make  it  not  only  a  badge  of  authority,  a  useful  tool 
and  walking-stick  through  the  dark  passages,  but  also — 
according  to  report — an  occasional  aid  to  discipline. 

According  to  my  host,  the  position  of  these  under- 
bosses  who  were  turned  over  to  the  new  administration 
with  the  mines,  is  superlatively  difficult.  If  they  remain 
but  fail  to  give  satisfactory  service  to  the  French,  they 
may  be  discharged — to  lose,  of  course,  their  pensions  as 
German  state  officials.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  they  re- 
fuse to  stay  here  under  the  French,  then  the  German 
Government  is  responsible  for  placing  them  elsewhere. 
That  is  likely  to  be  a  difficult  job  now  that  Upper  Silesia's 
mines  are  in  dispute,  with  the  mines  of  the  Ruhr  well 
filled.  According  to  law,  however,  such  an  official  must 
be  kept  for  five  years  at  a  certain  salary,  whether  work 
is  found  or  not.  After  that  he  is  eligible  for  a  pension 
of  some  value — if  ever  the  mark  "comes  back."  No 
wonder  these  who  stay  make  their  authority  quite  evi- 
dent with  their  crisp  commands. 

Starting  in  at  six  o'clock  means  out  again  at  one,  hi 
view  of  the  seven-hour  day  now  in  operation.  That  gives 
a  very  short  tune  for  actual  work  with  the  coal — but  long 
enough  to  get  us  all  good  and  dirty,  judging  from  the 
appearance  of  the  crowd  this  afternoon  at  the  shower- 
bath.  The  swarm  of  scores  of  naked  workers  there  gave 
a  wonderful  demonstration  of  the  spiritual  as  well  as  the 
physical  possibilities  of  soap  and  water — lots  of  water, 
hot  and  cold.  For  we  came  in  looking  like  grimy,  black- 
skinned,  unshaved  bums.  Shortly  after,  we  emerged 
as  white-skinned,  red-cheeked  gentlemen  clothed  in  the 


170    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

garments  and  the  minds  of  respectability.  What  this 
means  to  a  man's  own  thinking  about  himself  as  he  goes 
through  the  street  is  a  lot,  but  to  it  must  be  added,  also, 
the  relief  it  brings  to  all  the  housewives  who  otherwise 
must  keep  eternally  trying  to  fight  off  both  the  dirt  and 
the  lowered  self-respect  their  bread-winners  bring  home. 
The  shower  also  gives  a  good  opportunity  for  team-work. 
Having  in  mind  here,  as  in  the  north  France  coal-town, 
the  difficulty  of  getting  at  my  own  back,  I  turned  to  my 
nearest  neighbor  and  proceeded  to  wash  as  muscular  a 
spinal  column  as  it  has  been  my  pleasure  to  see  in  a  long 
tune — the  only  difficulty  being  that  we  were  so  crowded 
that  I  found  it  a  little  hard  to  make  sure  that  he  would 
get  the  right  back  when  my  own  turn  came !  In  an  amaz- 
ingly short  time,  considering  the  jam,  we  were  ready  to 
take  up  again  the  burden  of  our  white-collared  citizenship, 
while  our  sweaty  mine  clothes  hung  from  their  hooks  and 
chains  in  the  warm  air  near  the  roof.  Without  doubt 
there  is  a  close  connection  between  these  showers  and 
these  generally  good  working  conditions  and  those  clean 
and  comfortable-looking  little  homes  in  the  Kermess 
towns  of  yesterday.  Me,  I'm  for  a  company  shower  in 
every  mine-town  in  the  world ! — also  ready  to  congratu- 
late the  German  Government  on  its  good  sense  in  making 
it  nationally  compulsory. 

For  more  than  a  century  these  pits  have  been  operated 
in  various  parts  of  the  locality's  700  square  miles,  though 
for  most  of  the  time  on  nothing  like  the  scale  of  the  pres- 
ent 70,000  miners  out  of  the  district's  700,000  population. 
People  here  believe  that  the  local  properties  have  never 
been  fully  developed  because  the  Ruhr  up  north  has  al- 


IN  "THE  HOT  SPOT  OF  EUROPE"  171 

ways  had  more  "pull"  with  the  officials  in  Berlin.  But 
even  at  that,  it  must  cause  quite  a  shock  when  so  long- 
standing an  ownership  is  as  suddenly  terminated  as  this 
has  been.  The  shock,  however,  is  probably  much  less 
over  here  than  we  are  apt  to  think,  seeing  that  various 
ruling  houses  have  at  different  tunes  fought — or  married 
or  inherited — their  way  into  this  locality's  ownership, 
including  at  one  time  the  Prince  of  Orange,  and  at  two 
other  periods  a  French  sovereign.  This  last  fact  appears 
to  have  figured  largely  at  Versailles  when  the  French  had 
to  find  ways  of  handling  their  increased  resources  of  iron- 
ore  with  their  badly  crippled  coal-supply.  In  any  event 
the  valley's  long  and  hectic  history  does  not  appear  to 
have  hardened  it  perceptibly  against  the  miseries  of  the 
recent  warfare  to  which  its  nearness  to  Alsace-Lorraine 
exposed  it. 

"Our  bread  during  the  war,  it  was  fit  only  for  pigs," 
relates  my  landlord.  "Our  beer — nothing  but  water. 
Potatoes?  Why,  my  wife  went  to  some  relatives  away 
over  in  Bavaria — to  pay  a  huge  price  and  then  bring 
back  nothing  but  a  few  pounds !  And  flying-machines ! 
Here  in  my  own  house,  I  built  my  family  a  shelter.  Night 
after  night  with  the  explosion  of  the  first  bomb,  we  got 
us  all  out  of  our  beds  and  quick  into  the  cellar.  Terrible ! 
Our  son  of  fourteen  is  fully  a  fifth  under  normal  size — 
from  the  bad  food  and  the  big  fear.  And  now  the  cost 
of  living  is  higher  than  ever — and  higher  here  than  hi 
Germany  or  France  for,  you  see,  we  are  cut  off  from  them 
both.  For  potatoes  that  used  to  cost  one  mark  twenty, 
we  pay  120  marks — that's  one  hundredfold !  And  one 
says  they  will  go  still  higher!  No  wonder  our  people 


172    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

are  unhappy,  especially  now  that  the  steel  plants  are 
laying  off  men  because  their  coal — in  francs — is  so  ex- 
pensive. .  .  .  One  can  easily  observe  that  our  govern- 
ment— in  Berlin,  I  mean — is  frightened.  Erzberger's 
murder  is  the  eighteenth !  One  after  another  the  mod- 
erate leaders  are  being  killed  off  by  those  who  want  the 
Kaiser  back,  the  old  reactionaries  who  have  learned 
nothing.  Martial  law  has  been  declared  in  Bavaria — 
perhaps  she  will  leave  the  Empire  to-morrow.  The  gov- 
ernment is  afraid  of  the  militarists  even  though  they 
know  that  the  workers  and  the  people  generally  are 
against  them.  It  does  not  know  how  long  it  will  last  or 
what  will  happen — and  nobody  else  knows,  also!" 

From  all  that  the  past  few  weeks  have  brought,  he's 
a  highly  observant  and  well-balanced  man. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
POLITICS  AND  POTATOES  IN  THE  SAAR 

Saar  Valley, 
Tuesday,  Aug.  30. 

THIS  "hot  spot  of  Europe"  is  considerably  cooler — 
and  more  contented — than  expected,  but  the  mines,  at 
least,  do  their  best  to  deserve  the  title.  I  must  have  lost 
several  pounds  in  honest  sweat  there  in  our  low-roofed 
"room"  this  morning.  Luckily  the  rules  require  that, 
before  exploding  any  charge,  the  danger  be  lessened  by 
laying  the  dust  with  a  hose  from  the  near-by  water-pipes. 
That  at  least  furnishes  a  comfortable  part  of  the  hot 
day's  work.  Unluckily,  when  I  tried  to  increase  com- 
fort by  taking  off  my  shirt,  my  companions  said  it  was 
against  one  of  the  "streng  verbotens,"  of  the  old  Prussian 
regime  which  has  not  yet  been  abolished  by  the  new 
owners. 

"  'America — what  of  America?',  many  of  my  fellow 
officers  in  our  regiment  said,"  so  an  under-official  ex- 
plained as  we  went  together  the  long  mile  and  more  to 
our  location.  "  'Nein,  nein/  I  told  them.  'You  wait. 
You  will  see!'  And  they  did.  Then,  too,  a  great  mis- 
take it  was  to  export  the  Belgians  to  work  for  us.  Even 
the  highest  officers  believed  it  was,  too,  but  they  claim 
their  orders  came  from  far  above — doubtless  from  our 
dullest  statesmen.  We  fought  too  long.  Reconciliation 
with  good-will,  earlier,  in,  say,  1917 — that  would  have 
been  better.  As  for  me  I  am  German,  yes,  and  loyal, 

173 


174    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

but  with  human  beings  you  cannot  do  everything  with 
force. 

"And  that  is  what  our  French  officials  here  also  be- 
lieve. Capable  men  they  are:  they  know  how  to  get 
along  with  people.  They  study  it.  I  will  tell  the  truth. 
Good  men  they  are — good  to  us  and  to  our  workers, 
though  we  officers  here  inside,  we  know  that  the  German 
worker  needs  a  firm  hand  over  him." 

Neither  the  local  French  nor  the  local  German  news- 
papers are  willing  to  take  quite  as  fair  a  view.  All  of 
them  give  more  propaganda  than  news,  the  Germans 
evidently  centring  their  fight  on  the  h.  c.  1.  The  bitter- 
ness with  which  the  men  complain  not  about  their  treat- 
ment on  the  job  but  about  the  cause  of  high  costs  in  their 
isolation  from  the  Fatherland  would  be  amusing  if  it 
were  not  so  tragic.  No  one  among  them  appears  to  have 
the  slightest  conception  as  to  the  whys  and  wherefores 
of  it  all;  every  one  grunts  uncomprehendingly  when  men- 
tion is  made,  for  instance,  of  the  condition  of  those  water- 
logged entries  up  at  Lens.  In  fact,  few  of  my  worker 
friends  appear  to  pay  attention  to  any  kind  of  newspaper. 

"Why  should  we?"  asked  my  buddy  to-day  in  be- 
tween the  exhibition  of  his  pride  as  he  tried  to  pass  over 
to  me  as  much  as  possible  of  his  German  craftsmanship. 
"Before  the  war  the  Kaiser  never  let  anything  into  the 
papers  he  did  not  want.  We  knew  nothing  of  the  out- 
side world.  That's  why  it  all  happened.  Our  leaders 
first  pushed  us  off  by  ourselves  and  then  pushed  us  into 
the  war.  That's  why  we  Communists  are  going  to  fight 
the  next  war,  not  nation  against  nation,  but  under  dog 
against  upper  class.  ...  As  to  this  Interallied  Com- 


POLITICS  AND  POTATOES  IN  THE  SAAR    175 

mission  in  charge  of  things  here,  there's  nobody  on  it 
representing  labor,  is  there?  .  .  .  Well?" 

It  is  a  long  road  from  him  and  the  dark,  sweaty  han- 
dling of  coal  and  timber  up  and  out  through  the  shower- 
bath  and  into  town  and  the  office  of  an  important  Ger- 
man civil  official  who  won  his  job  by  adding  to  a 
university  degree  considerable  administrative  experience 
and  a  successful  civil-service  examination. 

"Yes,  some  of  these  miners  are  unhappy,  but  most  of 
them  feel  better  off  now  than  the  other  workers  in  the 
region.  That  may  be  changed  now  that  some  of  the  steel 
plants  are  paying  in  francs.  It  is  a  hard  problem — a 
hard  problem  politically  and  made  still  worse  by  religion. 
With  many  Bohemians  coming  in  for  work,  added  to  the 
French  near  the  Lorraine  line,  the  country  is  now  about 
two-thirds  Catholic  and  one-third  Protestant.  This  dif- 
ference in  religion  used  also  to  complicate  relations  be- 
tween the  Catholic  miners  here  and  the  Protestant  officials 
from  Berlin.  ...  If  only  we  could  have  a  lower  cost  of 
living,  things  would  not  be  so  bad.  Meanwhile,  we  have 
nothing  but  strikes — though  not  for  some  time  in  the 
mines — and  those  for  nothing  but  bread  and  butter. 
Strikes  by  the  workers  and  speculation  by  the  white- 
collared  people — all  these  without  thought  of  the  cultural 
and  spiritual  things  that  used  to  interest  the  good  old 
German  spirit — yes,  that's  true  even  though  the  papers 
advertise  for  a  leader  of  the  municipal  orchestra  at  a  big 
salary.  ...  Of  course,  I  have  faith  that  somehow  we 
are  going  to  get  back,  some  day,  to  the  old  interests — 
otherwise  I  should  feel  that  all  I  could  do  to  merit  my 
position  would  be  to  throw  myself  into  the  river.  .  .  . 


176    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

No,  there's  no  chance  of  lessening  France 's  power  here, 
much  as  the  League  of  Nation's  High  Commission  of 
Five  might  desire.  You  see,  all  the  individual  and  eco- 
nomic influences  play  into  France's  hands.  French 
private  capital  is  buying  up  the  control  in  all  the  local 
steel  plants.  French  money  has  been  voted  legal  for 
railways  and  postage.  And  French  troops,  as  you  have 
seen,  are  all  about,  including  those  dark  skins  from  Mo- 
rocco— what  you  call  them,  niggers — though  I  will  say 
there  are  not  many  and  not  very  black.  But  I  can't 
imagine  that  these  will  ever  be  taken  away  as  long  as 
they  represent  France  and  we  represent  Germany." 

Perhaps  his  hopelessness  is  born  of  many  such  tragic 
games  of  "  consequences "  as  that  heard  here  lately.  A 
French  officer  informed  a  local  housewife  that  he  was 
billeted  with  her  and  proposed  to  live  comfortably.  For 
one  thing,  he  wished  all  bed  and  table  linen  changed  daily. 
After  a  week  she  remonstrated  that  it  was  impossible — 
that  she  had  already  used  up  all  her  own  and  her  neigh- 
bor's supply,  besides  working  always  at  the  wash-tub. 

"You  are  quite  right,"  was  his  surprising  reply.  "It 
is  impossible  and  unnecessary.  But  I  wished  to  show 
you  for  one  week  what  your  son,  madam,  required  my 
mother  in  France  to  do  throughout  four  years!" 

Small  wonder  that  the  representative  of  the  British 
Empire — a  hardy,  capable,  and  lovable  Scotchman  from 
Winnipeg,  Canada! — finds  it  almost  impossible  to  per- 
suade the  other  four  commissioners — from  France,  the 
Saar,  Belgium,  and  Denmark — to  forget  the  hatreds  and 
fears  of  the  war  in  the  effort  to  work  out  the  best  good 
of  the  district,  and,  therefore,  of  the  League  of  Nations 


POLITICS  AND  POTATOES  IN  THE  SAAR    177 

intrusted  with  it.  Charged  with  responsibility  for  both 
finance  and  food-supply,  he  is  reported  to  have  found 
that  French  influence  was  unloading  on  the  population 
excess  war  provisions — some  of  which  were  pretty  stale 
and  well  calculated  to  remind  the  local  citizens  what  had 
happened  since  1914  and  who  was  boss.  Altogether  his 
job  looks  like  one  of  the  hardest  hi  the  world: 

"Yes,  the  cost  of  living  is  high  here — with  plenty  of 
reason.  The  district  raises  enough  food  only  for  a  few 
weeks  in  the  year.  We  have  bought  all  the  cattle  we 
can  buy  from  Holland.  Now  we  are  getting  some  from 
Rumania;  it  takes  five  solid  days'  travel  without  food 
or  water  and  so  with  expensive  loss  of  weight.  But,  you 
see,  we  simply  cannot  buy  any  kind  of  food  except  from 
countries  with  money  as  depreciated  as  ours — our  selling 
money,  namely,  German.  We  have  to  buy  in  our  best 
money,  francs,  and  sell  in  our  worst  because  the  two 
moneys  represent  one  of  the  compromises  laid  upon  us 
by  the  treaty.  So  we  stand  to  lose  millions  of  marks  on 
a  single  deal  in  potatoes  or  flour  if  the  exchange  fluctuates 
too  rapidly.  That's  why  we  still  have  family  bread- 
cards — we  sell  so  far  below  cost.  Also  why  I'm  glad 
that  we  closed  our  year  with  a  surplus  after  fearing  a 
big  deficit.  In  spite  of  all  that,  I  found  the  people  here 
wanting  to  use  flour  made  of  only  60  per  cent  of  the  wheat 
for  their  bread.  I  have  insisted  upon  their  eating  80  per 
cent.  But,  in  a  way,  I  am  glad  to  see  them  wanting  the 
best  and  whitest  bread  in  Europe.  It  shows  that  they 
are  appreciating  their  freedom  from  the  war  indemnities 
or  taxes  which  for  years  will  be  loading  their  neighbors 
over  in  both  Germany  and  France.  In  every  way  our 


178    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

rates  here  are  lower  than  in  the  various  war  countries. 
But  even  those  we  have  are  hard  to  collect  because  a 
bombing-plane  came  over  during  hostilities  and  blew  up 
all  the  official  records !" 

In  the  towns  there  are  many  evidences  besides  silk 
stockings  and  canes  that  there  are  worse  fates  than  to 
be  in  the  hands  of  the  League  of  Nations.  In  the  villages 
which  dot  the  country,  few  houses  but  make,  in  the  great, 
square  stone  or  concrete  basins  outside  their  front  doors, 
a  good  showing  of  the  manure  by  which  a  farmer's  wealth 
is  rated — and  rated  accurately  enough,  seeing  that  the 
pile  registers  both  the  number  of  cattle  owned  and  the 
number  of  acres  from  which  income  can  be  expected. 

In  both  country  and  town,  unfortunately,  a  sudden 
shift  in  exchange  may  take  10  per  cent  off  the  contents 
of  a  man's  pocketbook  or  granary.  But  that  is  true  all 
over  Germany  and  various  other  countries.  It  gives  a 
wondrous  boost  to  speculation — the  worst  possible  thing 
to  do  with  money  may  be  to  hold  it !  Also  a  body  blow 
to  thrift  just  at  the  time  it  is  most  needed.  In  a  way, 
the  universality  of  this  demoralizing  perversity  of  ex- 
change and  of  the  puzzlement  over  it  is  helping  toward 
some  form  of  international  co-operation:  it  makes  it  so 
evident  to  everybody  that  no  one  nation  alone  can  mas- 
ter its  disagreeable  intricacies.  If  the  League  of  Nations 
could  let  its  experts  help  on  that — by  some  concerted 
programme  of  doctoring  the  various  national  financial 
maladies  of  which  the  unpleasant  exchange  is  a  symptom 
—it  would  certainly  go  far  toward  helping  to  make  it 
properly  "The  League  of  Peoples"  such  as  the  Germans 
call  it — (Voelkerbund).  What  would  help  most  here, 


POLITICS  AND  POTATOES  IN  THE  SAAR    179 

also,  would  be  for  the  League  to  permit — or  compel — the 
Commission  to  have  France  withdraw  her  soldiers  and 
hold  them  in  call  a  few  miles  across  the  border.  Any 
payment  of  a  Saar  army  is  forbidden  to  the  Commis- 
sioners by  the  treaty  and  no  other  country  except  France 
has  thought  to  put  one  at  the  Commission's  disposal. 

Altogether  it  looks,  tastes,  and  feels  like  as  good  a  cross- 
section  of  the  poor  old  world's  outfit  of  industrial,  social, 
and  political  difficulties  as  anybody  could  wish  to  see. 
And  I'm  sure,  too,  that  that  impression  isn't  simply  be- 
cause the  day's  combination  of  underground  sweat  and 
aboveground  conversation  with  French,  German,  and 
English  leaders  has  made  me  more  than  willing  to  call 
it  a  full  day. 

And  now  to  remind  the  landlady  of  the  tap  on  the  door 
to-morrow  at  four-thirty. 

Wednesday,  August  31. 

This  being  introduced  to  the  workers  as  an  American 
engineering  student  who  has  the  good-will  of  the  French 
officials  but  is  not  unfriendly  to  Germany,  furnishes  regu- 
larly a  full  day  and  a  tiring  one,  in  view  of  the  active 
shovel-exercise  needed  to  get  the  workers'  confidence 
and  conversation.  To-day  the  pit  where  I  worked  re- 
quired miles  of  walking  through  several  mining  villages. 
Unfortunately,  too,  the  walk  underground  was  almost 
as  long  and  more  muddy  and  slippery.  The  place  of 
working,  too,  was  low,  pitched  at  a  steep  angle  and  gen- 
erally disagreeable.  The  coal,  also,  was  very  hard  to 
get  out,  requiring  a  great  amount  of  shooting.  All  the 
workers — perhaps  as  one  result  of  this — appeared  con- 


180    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

siderably  less  happy  than  the  others  encountered;  for 
some  reason,  too,  they  did  not  use  their  heads  to  plan 
their  work  so  well.  The  blisters  given  by  my  shovel, 
added  to  the  short  night's  sleep,  made  their  free  and  out- 
spoken prophecy  of  the  next  war  between  muscle-men 
and  money-men  sound  almost  reasonable. 

To-day  at  one  time  I  grazed  the  edge  of  trouble  by 
turning  on  so  much  compressed  air  for  agitating  the  long 
iron  chute  for  bringing  the  coal  down  into  my  car,  that  it 
broke  the  connections.  Luckily,  the  others  soon  fixed  it 
and  let  me  continue  to  enjoy  my  pride  in  filling  the  tubs, 
chalking  them  with  our  gang  number  and  pushing  them 
to  the  near-by  siding. 

When  the  French  engineers  came  along,  in  line  with 
the  universal  French  engineer's  custom  of  visiting  some 
part  of  the  underground  galleries  every  day,  my  buddies 
were  pretty  outspoken  in  their  complaints  about  wages. 
It  was  splendid,  however,  to  see  the  way  the  Frenchmen 
endeavored  to  explain  to  us  all  the  sincerity  of  their  in- 
terest and  the  difficulty  of  then*  success  in  fighting  against 
the  cost  of  living  and  other  enemies  of  the  worker.  If 
there  is  any  way  out,  it  must  surely  lie  in  some  degree, 
at  least,  through  such  close  face-to-face  and  mind-to- 
mind  contact  as  our  group  furnished  as  we  sat  there  in 
the  frame  of  the  low,  black  room's  darkness  with  our 
smoky  lamps  showing  up  the  whites  of  our  eyes. 

In  spite  of  the  men's  unhappiness,  to-day  brought  a 
closer  contact  with  the  religious  or  near-religious  spirit 
which  these  craftsmen  appear  to  bring  with  them  every 
morning  to  their  jobs.  After  our  miles  of  walk  through 
the  valley  we  joined  the  crowd  standing  ready  with  their 


POLITICS  AND  POTATOES  IN  THE  SAAR    181 

lighted  lamps  as  the  German  mine-boss  took  his  seat 
upon  a  small  platform.  As  soon  as  everybody  had  re- 
ported and  bad  acknowledged  his  orders  for  the  day, 
hats  came  off  and  heads  were  bowed  while  a  formal  prayer 
for  our  safety  was  solemnly  repeated.  At  its  conclusion 
we  turned  to  each  other  with  a  very  serious  greeting  of 
"Glueck  auf !"  (Good  luck!)  Whether  above  ground  or 
below,  every  miner  greets  another  with  this  symbol  of 
the  common  danger.  Later  I  felt  like  repeating  it  as  the 
shot-firer  examined  our  charge  of  explosive  and  then 
with  his  electric  apparatus  ready,  yelled  with  all  his  voice, 
"Der-r-r-r  spre-n-n-gt ! "  (It's  going  off!)  an  instant 
before  the  explosion  seemed  to  shake  the  world.  At  such 
a  moment  it  is  easy  to  believe  for  the  miner,  at  least, 
that  "In  the  handiwork  of  his  craft  is  his  prayer."  On 
the  whole,  this  morning  prayer  comes  closer  to  expressing 
the  worker's  thought  about  his  job  than  that  other  prayer 
which  a  mine-town  pastor  told  of  repeating  at  the  funeral 
of  his  miner  friend  who  was  entombed  in  a  disaster  and 
whose  body  was  found  only  after  continuous  effort  dur- 
ing two  years! 

There's  the  street  crier ! 

"Ta-ke  no-tice  that  a  new  cooking  class  by  a  teacher 
of  domestic  science  to-morrow  afternoon  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  company's  restaurant  kitchen,  especially  for  women 
and  girls,  ge-opened  will  be," — to  take  it  as  it  comes. 
Also — "Ta-ke  no-tice  that  Mr.  Blank,  undertaker,  re- 
cently, everything  in  his  establishment  hi  order  to  give 
the  best  possible  service  for  high-class  funerals  and 
reverential  burying,  his  house  in  order  has  put."  Etc., 
etc. 


182    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

My  fellow  workers  tell  me  that  during  the  war  the 
undertakers  here  were  worked  too  hard  and  teachers 
too  little  by  the  general  scarcity  of  food  and  the  over- 
plus of  enemy  bombing  planes.  So  it  is  good  to  see  the 
late  causers  and  sufferers  of  the  bombing  planes  getting 
together  in  the  interests  of  better  food  and  a  longer  and 
happier  side-stepping  of  the  grave-digger.  For  all  this 
hatred  and  unhappiness  here  is  a  matter  more  of  hearts 
than  of  heads,  and  men's  hearts,  as  womenfolk  the  world 
over  know,  are  often  best  approached  through  the  kitchen 
door. 

"My  family  and  I  can  eat  better  and  live  better  now/' 
says  one  of  the  Germans — he  is  on  a  level  higher  than  a 
miner — "because  I  am  paid  better  by  the  French  than 
I  was  by  the  German  administration.  Paid  better,  yes, 
and  treated  better — with  less  of  the  old  Prussian  bluster. 
I  am  German — and  loyal  German — but  I  try  to  do  my 
duty  by  my  employer — and  to  tell  the  truth  about  him." 

Well,  this  double  life  is  a  hard  one — with  too  much 
language,  too  much  walk  and  work,  and  too  little  sleep. 
Am  ashamed  not  to  have  another  day  as  a  worker,  but 
must  not  refuse  the  offer  of  the  engineers  to  take  me  with 
them  on  their  morning  trip  through  still  another  mine. 
Must  leave  Friday  in  order  to  connect  with  the  League 
of  Nations  before  my  secretarial  friends  there  get  too 
busy  with  the  Second  Annual  Assembly  to  talk  with  me. 

Thursday,  September  1. 

It  grows  plainer  why  these  miners  are  all  working  so 
well.  If  these  French  engineers  don't  become  too  dis- 
couraged to  continue  making  such  contacts  as  I've  seen 


GERMAN  COAL-MINERS  OF  THE  SAAR  LEAVING  TOWN  FOR  THE 
SHAFT  OF  A  COAL-MINE   SEVERAL  MILES  IN   THE   COUNTRY 


"THE  HOT-SPOT  OF  EUROPE" 

This  name  has  been  given  the  Saar  by  reason  of  the  complicated  political  and  in- 
dustrial situation.  The  German  miners  shown  here  work  directly  under  the  su- 
pervision of  the  German  foreman  at  the  left.  He,  in  turn,  is  under  the  orders  of 
the  French  engineer  shown  with  the  cane.  The  League  of  Nations,  in  general 
charge  of  the  district,  may  point  with  pride  to  its  record  in  the  Saar 


POLITICS  AND  POTATOES  IN  THE  SAAR    183 

to-day  and  previously,  they  will  get  these  loyal  Germans 
positively  to  liking  them!  And  nothing  in  Europe  is 
harder  to  imagine  than  that ! 

It  comes  mainly  from  this  French  idea  whereby  the 
big  chief  thinks  it  a  part  of  his  job  to  go  underground 
for  a  part  of  every  working-day — that  and  the  real  in- 
terest in  the  underground  worker  which  goes  with  it.  To- 
day the  two  chiefs  certainly  gave  good  consideration  to 
the  view-points  of  the  men  and  showed  their  complete 
willingness  to  meet  their  objections;  their  effort  was  evi- 
dently all  the  more  appreciated  for  being  in  broken  Ger- 
man. If  the  men  said  they  were  earning  less  than  20 
francs  per  day,  the  reasons  were  taken  up  with  surprising 
seriousness.  "Were  they  getting  enough  cars?  How 
about  the  undercutting  and  the  shot-firing?"  etc.,  etc. 

"  Quite  so,"  they  would  reply  when,  as  usual,  the 
worker  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  admitted  that  he 
got  good  money  but  urged  that  with  potatoes,  meat,  and 
all  at  present  prices  he  could  not  buy  anything  with  it. 
"  Quite  so,  but  don't  you  see,  my  friend,  that  we  must 
not  blame  the  butcher,  the  baker,  and  the  candlestick- 
maker  for  his  high  prices  as  long  as  he  has  to  pay  so  much 
for  his  coal  ?  That  cost  is  basic — it  counts  in  every  mer- 
chant's and  every  manufacturer's  costs.  In  that  cost 
of  coal,  wages  alone  figure  most  of  all,  with  the  manage- 
ment forced  to  add  to  that  cost  its  'overhead'  for  ma- 
chinery, haulage,  ventilation,  etc.,  whether  it  gets  much 
coal  or  little.  If,  therefore,  you  miners  will  increase  your 
earnings  by  raising  more  coal  per  day,  the  company  will 
be  delighted  to  put  a  big  daily  output  against  that  over- 
head, and  so  lower  the  price  of  coal  and  thus  the  whole 


184    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

cost  of  living !  Now,  on  that  basis,  can  we  help  you  do 
better?" 

Needless  to  say,  the  engineers  did  not  forget  to  scru- 
tinize the  more  mechanical  details.  A  shot-firer  was 
promised  severe  punishment  for  leaving  his  electric  de- 
tonator lying  carelessly  on  the  floor.  Another  was  scolded 
for  allowing  an  air-hammer  hose  to  get  into  leaky  con- 
dition. 

This  afternoon  in  town  at  the  central  office,  the  head 
of  the  whole  engineering  group  gave  the  French  phi- 
losophy behind  all  this: 

"Yes,  undoubtedly  we  have  a  larger  number  of  expert 
engineers  on  our  operation  than  did  the  Germans,  and 
than  would  either  the  average  British  or  American  opera- 
tor. That's  our  standard  French  practice.  We  believe 
that  the  ordinary  foreman  who  works  underground  is 
not  capable  of  meeting  all  the  underground  problems, 
and,  least  of  all,  of  managing  all  the  difficult  underground 
relationships.  That  follows  from  our  belief — our  French 
belief — that  the  mind  of  these  workers  presents  just  as 
important  a  part  of  the  operation  of  a  mine  as  the  care 
and  up-keep  of  the  mechanical  machines.  That  is  true 
in  every  factory,  but  it  is  especially  true  in  every  mine, 
where  so  much  of  the  work  is  done  not  by  machine  but 
by  muscle — that  is,  after  all,  by  mind.  We  believe  our 
results  here  are  indicating  the  Tightness  of  our  phi- 
losophy." 

I  know  several  countries  that  would  profit  from  the 
same  line  of  thinking,  and  not  far  from  home  either. 
Perhaps  such  wisdom  will  become  more  general  if  its 
success  here  in  the  Saar's  coal  jobs  helps  to  give  success 
to  the  League  of  Nation's  efforts  to  demonstrate  the  pos- 


POLITICS  AND  POTATOES  IN  THE  SAAR    185 

sibility  of  a  good  piece  of  international  team-work  under 
the  most  difficult  conditions  conceivable. 

The  workers  make  it  plain  that  they  see  the  change 
from  the  strict,  almost  military,  discipline  of  the  former 
German  regime  in  which  the  sub-bosses  carried  the  re- 
sponsibility of  making  most  of  the  miners'  decisions  for 
them.  As  it  is,  even  the  present  German  under-foremen 
give  the  impression  of  feeling  more  difference  between 
themselves  and  the  laborers  than  appears  between  the 
foremen  and  the  French  engineering  functionaries.  These 
native  supervisors,  though,  do  appreciate  the  French 
idea  of  paying  the  officials  a  little  more  salary  in  the  ef- 
fort to  lessen  their  interest  in  commissions  from  sales- 
men. Later  on,  the  workers  are  pretty  likely  to  appreci- 
ate, also,  the  French  efforts  to  arrange  classes  whereby 
their  boys  will  have  a  larger  chance  to  become  under- 
officials.  At  present,  as  under  the  old  regime,  no  one 
can  hope  for  promotion  unless  he  passes  a  certain  ex- 
amination at  fourteen.  But  he  can't  even  take  this  unless 
he  was  lucky  enough  to  begin  a  certain  course  of  study 
at  the  age  of  ten.  And — worst  of  all — he  could  not  start 
this  at  ten  unless  his  father  had  a  certain  standing  and 
enjoyed  a  certain  amount  of  prosperity. 

In  line  with  all  this,  complaints  in  the  old  days  had 
to  be  made  in  ink.  One  recently  received  said  that  the 
writer  was  laying  his  long-standing  trouble  before  the 
French  even  though  all  his  earlier  letters  to  his  German 
bosses  had  never  brought  anything  but  a  "good  old  Ger- 
man 'Out  with  you!'  "  In  line  with  it,  too,  the  daily 
production  per  man  is  considerably  better  than  the  out- 
side world  has  understood,  because  the  French  follow 
the  American  method  of  including  official  and  above- 


186    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

ground  workers,  while  the  German  reports  figured  ton- 
nage only  on  the  basis  of  "per  underground  worker." 
To-day,  by  the  way,  I  saw  charts  which  gave  production 
and  personnel  figures  for  every  year  since  1816 ! 

All  this  is  supported,  in  turn,  by  the  kind  of  books 
which  I  was  amazed  to  find  upon  the  desks  of  these  en- 
gineers. They  treat  of  "The  Human  Motor,"  "The 
Organization  of  Human  Activities,"  etc.,  etc.  Books 
that  are  found  in  America  and  England  only  upon  the 
desks  of  the  students  of  psychology  are  here  found  to 
be  well-worn  by  the  fingers  and  thumbs  of  mechanical 
engineers!  It  is,  verily,  worth  coming  a  long  way  to 
see.  If  by  all  such  means,  here  in  the  "hot  spot," 
this  problem  of  industrial  relationships  can  be  solved, 
then  certainly  there  is  hope  for  every  employer  in  the 
world ! 

Oddly  enough,  all  this  human  "complex"  here  appears 
to  have  one  very  mechanical  phase.  Unfortunately,  this 
Saar  coal  does  not  make  good  coke.  It  breaks  up  too 
easily  to  permit  it  to  be  used  in  those  great  blast  furnaces 
across  the  border  in  Lorraine  and  up  near  Longwy.  For 
that  reason,  it  now  has  to  go  clear  up  to  supply  the  mu- 
nicipal utilities  of  Paris  and  the  locomotives  of  a  French 
railway — right  past  those  furnaces  that  continue  to  get 
their  coke  "direct  from  Essen."  So  if  only  some  one 
would  contrive  a  way  to  make  good  stiff  coke  out  of  this 
coal,  France  would  at  once  lose  much  of  her  present  in- 
terest in  getting  her  soldiers — and  engineers — into  the 
Ruhr — and  one  big  factor  in  the  world's  present  unhap- 
piness  could  be  cancelled.  It  makes  a  combination  of 
politics  and  research  worthy  of  these  modern  days. 


POLITICS  AND  POTATOES  IN  THE  SAAR    187 

"A  formula!  A  formula!  The  thanks  of  kingdoms 
for  a  formula!" 

A  local  editor  may  have  had  something  like  that  in 
his  head  this  very  morning: 

"Away  with  all  this  hatred.  It  only  retards  the  hap- 
piness of  the  continent's  two  greatest  peoples.  Why  not 
commence  to  buy  and  sell  to  each  other,  seeing  that  we 
now  understand  so  thoroughly  that  reconciliation  is  the 
basis  of  economics,  and  that  economic  considerations 
are  and  always  must  be  at  the  bottom  of  all  constructive 
politics  and  all  lasting  diplomacy?" 

Reasonable  enough,  but  a  harder  saying  than  it  sounds, 
seeing  that  every  one  of  the  buyers  and  sellers  here  goes 
around  with  a  hand  and  a  heart  full  of  memories  and 
feelings: 

"If  our  Kaiser  had  mounted  upon  a  high  altar,"  so 
the  keeper  of  the  showers  assured  me  to-day,  "and  there, 
while  his  people  prayed,  had  met  his  death  like  some 
great  German  hero  of  old — yes,  perhaps  then  he  might 
come  back  to  us.  But  a  deserter,  never  did  I  think  him 
that !  We  are  done  with  all  Hohenzollerns.  .  .  .  And 
never  did  I  think  that  you  Americans  that  rebelled  against 
your  British  masters  would  follow  their  lies  into  the  fight 
against  us!" 

Disappointment,  fear,  faith — psychology,  economics, 
politics — who  has  the  answer? 

Friday,  Sept.  2, 
On  train  to  Geneva. 

The  walls  of  these  countries  are  certainly  close  together. 
This  train  down  through  Strassburg  to  Basel  evidently 
started  from  Brussels.  From  the  notices  I  find  myself 


188    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

forbidden  to  spit  in  four  languages !  Close  together  and 
thick!  Examinations  of  baggage  and  passports,  etc., 
out  of  the  Saar  and  into  the  new  France  of  Alsace,  then 
other  examinations  out  of  Alsace  and  still  others  into 
Switzerland — all  within  less  than  four  hours  of  locomo- 
tion. Naturally  enough  none  of  the  moments  takes  one 
very  far  from  the  memory  of  the  crowded  room  and  the 
hampered  elbows  in  it. 

"My  father  wept  when  I  went  off  to  war,  but  only 
because  I  went  as  a  German  soldier — not  a  French.  You 
know  there  were  23,000  of  us  did  enlist  with  the  French." 
So  a  young  Alsatian  speaking  French,  German,  and  Eng- 
lish has  been  telling  me  before  getting  off  at  Mulhouse, 
one  of  the  important  textile  and  potash  centres  we  passed. 
"At  Metz — in  the  very  garrison  where  my  father  had 
fought  against  the  invaders  in  1870 — they  wanted  to 
make  me  officer.  I  refused.  A  few  days  later  they  sent 
me  over  to  the  Russian  front  with  hundreds  of  other 
Alsatians.  You  see,  they  could  not  trust  us.  I  soon 
walked  out  into  'No  Man's  Land' !  The  Russians  failed 
to  understand  me  and  my  wishes  to  surrender  quickly 
enough  to  keep  from  bayoneting  me.  After  I  got  nearly 
well  again,  I  walked  700  miles  back  into  their  country. 
There  I  found  1,200  Alsatians!  We  had  all  done  the 
same  thing.  Finally,  we  were  sent  around  by  the  north 
to  England  and  to  France.  ...  Of  course,  my  family 
had  had  no  news  and  the  Germans  reported  our  deaths. 
The  day  this  report  came  my  mother  died  of  the  shock. 
But  my  father  kept  insisting:  'I  know  better.  I  am  sure 
of  what  those  Prussian  ways  will  make  him  do.  Some 
day  we  shall  see  him  again.'  " 


POLITICS  AND  POTATOES  IN  THE  SAAR    189 

A  Belgian  companion  adds  still  another  facet  to  this 
hard  diamond  of  mixed  relationships — none  the  less  il- 
luminating for  his  having  relieved  the  tedium  of  the  long 
trip  with  a  good  deal  of  cognac: 

"Yes,  it  is  true,  as  our  Walloon  fellow  citizens  say, 
we  Flemish  people  in  Belgium  are  friendly  with  the  Ger- 
mans now.  Now,  you  understand?  During  the  war, 
no,  not  at  all.  Then  we  fight  them,  for  we  are  Flemish — 
yes,  but  Belgians,  too,  and  our  country  is  at  war  with 
them.  But  the  war  is  ended,  is  it  not  so?  Yes.  And 
Antwerp,  now  that  peace  has  come,  must  have  the  Ger- 
mans. We  want  the  Germans  back  for  business.  Even 
the  English  do  not  do  business  with  us  as  do  the  Ger- 
mans. It  is  they  who  are  the  best  business  men  in  the 
world.  And  if  they  do  no  business,  then  no  money  comes 
to  Belgium — or  even  to  France  and  other  countries.  Yes, 
now  we  want  to  help  Germany.  We  and  all  the  world 
need  her." 

Certainly  these  last  few  days  show  what  enormous 
effect  upon  our  thinking  and  feeling  can  be  secured  by 
the  steady  work  with  fair  pay  and  good  treatment  brought 
by  business.  If  to  these  could  be  added  a  lessening  of 
the  fear  of  high  living  costs,  the  Saar  miners  might  amaze 
Europe  with  their  industrious  patience — possibly,  also, 
with  their  votes  for  an  independent  Saar  in  the  plebiscite 
at  the  end  of  the  fifteen-year  period.  I  feel  sure  the  Saar's 
h.  c.  1.  is  not  so  far  above  Germany's  as  the  Saar  miners' 
wages  are  above  the  wages  of  the  Ruhr.  So  I  have  sug- 
gested to  the  proper  authorities  that  the  Saar  govern- 
ment arrange  to  add  to  its  plans  for  a  commission  on  the 
cost  of  living,  the  effort  to  make  currently  and  continu- 


190    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

ously  a  scientific  and  unbiassed  study  of  local  living  costs 
as  compared  with  similar  figures  for  Germany  and  France, 
making  public  announcement  of  its  findings  from  month 
to  month.  Such  a  report  would  have  a  hard  fight  against 
the  propaganda  of  such  conversation  as  assailed  me  every 
day,  but  would  in  time  get  such  a  hearing  for  the  actual 
situation  as  I  am  sure  it  deserves — especially  if,  as  pro- 
posed, the  commission  includes  representatives  from  the 
miners  themselves  as  well  as  from  their  native  and  French 
officials. 

Looking  back  on  all  the  conversations  to  which  it  has 
been  my  business  to  listen  during  the  past  three  years, 
it  is  fairly  safe  to  say  that  more  breath  has  been  devoted 
to  the  price  of  potatoes — potatoes  and  bread — than  to 
any  other  single  subject.  The  getting  or  the  gripping  of 
the  job  might  perhaps  be  excepted,  but  even  this  has  been 
given  larger  importance  by  the  price — the  increased  price 
— of  potatoes  and  bread.  It  is  nothing  short  of  amazing 
what  a  lot  of  trouble  can  be  caused  in  our  feeling  and 
thinking  by  the  sense  of  unhappiness  connected  with 
potatoes  and  bread.  Whether  this  unhappiness  is  ac- 
tually justified  by  the  facts  appears  to  have  little  to  do 
with  it.  On  the  whole,  I  would  say  that  both  the  politi- 
cians and  the  philosophers  have  failed  to  give  the  humble 
potato  its  proper  recognition  as  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant factors  in  the  organized  life  of  Christendom.  In 
any  event,  the  greatest  cause  of  difficulty  found  in  the 
"hot  spot  "  comes  down  to  the  fact  that  the  potato, 
whether  it  actually  is  too  high  or  not,  feels  too  high.  In 
a  lesser  degree,  the  same  holds  for  most  of  Europe  and 
America. 


POLITICS  AND  POTATOES  IN  THE  SAAR    191 

I  wonder  whether  the  "S.  d.  N.,"  as  the  French  papers 
indicate  their  acceptance  of  the  Society  of  Nations  as 
an  established  affair,  will  to-morrow  give  indications  of 
carrying  anything  like  a  proper  potato  philosophy  on  its 
political  mind. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION" 

Chamonix,  France, 
Saturday,  Sept.  10. 

"JusT  what  I  expected — or  feared,"  I  said  to  myself 
last  Saturday  afternoon  after  I  had  started  off  to  find 
my  friends  at  the  office  of  the  League,  and  was  following 
the  pointings  of  the  motorman  toward  what  looked  like 
a  sizable  but  extremely  stand-offish  and  aristocratic  es- 
tablishment, set  like  a  private  residence  in  the  middle 
of  a  great  lawn  and  inside  a  high  iron  fence.  All  the  gates 
were  imposing  enough  but,  unfortunately,  quite  securely 
locked.  Around  the  entire  block  and  still  no  kind  of 
Saturday  afternoon  back  door.  As  likely  as  not  my  Amer- 
ican friends  were  among  the  group  enjoying  their  English 
week-end  in  a  beautifully  shaded  tennis-court  just  out- 
side the  unbusinesslike  office-building  of  the  organized 
world.  The  farther  I  walked,  the  more  typical  it  all  ap- 
peared of  the  whole  European  temperament  and  situa- 
tion that  the  offices  of  the  great  League  of  Nations  should 
shut  themselves  off  in  such  aristocratic  and  inactive  dig- 
nity right  on  the  eve  of  its  Second  Annual  Assembly, 
composed  of  four  representatives  from  almost  every  na- 
tion in  the  world. 

Finally,  in  considerable  disgust,  I  asked  a  passer-by 
if  he  could  tell  me  how  one  could  enter  the  Society's  sanc- 
tum of  a  Saturday  afternoon. 

192 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"       193 

"But  yes,  monsieur,"  and  he  gave  a  great  shrug;  "and 
it  should  not  be  difficult.  Right  there!" 

On  the  instant  I  began  to  arrive  at  a  new  appreciation 
of  the  League  of  Nations.  There  just  across  the  street 
from  the  block  I  had  been  encircling  stood  a  great  five 
or  six  story  building.  At  the  gate  and  in  the  courtyard 
was  a  hurrying,  chug-chugging,  door-slamming,  order- 
giving  melee  and  procession  of  magnificent  limousines, 
hard-working  jitneys,  nervous  motor-cycles,  uniformed 
chauffeurs  and  messenger-boys,  in  addition  to  scores 
of  silk-hatted  statesmen  and  handsome,  Paris-gowned 
women  from  various  parts  of  Europe  and  South  America 
mixed  with  dignified  gentlemen  wearing  fezes  from  Persia 
and  turbans  from  India!  In  the  lobby  several  clerks 
at  a  great  desk  somewhat  like  a  New  York  hotel's,  were 
trying  more  or  less  vainly  to  keep  cool  while  telephoning, 
and  at  the  same  time  answering  the  queries  of  the  jam 
of  people  who  appeared  to  use  a  bewildering  variety  of 
languages.  Exceptionally  active  and  intelligent-looking 
young  men  and  women,  evidently  a  part  of  the  working 
staff  or  secretariat,  were  carrying  papers  in  and  out  of 
rooms  where  a  number  of  international  committee  meet- 
ings were  in  progress.  This  busy,  throbbing  aggregation 
of  serious-purposed  people — had  all  this  been  got  into 
such  vitality  and  vividness  of  action  within  these  months  ? 

It  was  one  of  the  greatest  surprises  of  my  life — and 
certainly,  after  Douai,  Lens,  Essen,  Saarbriicken — one 
of  the  most  agreeable ! 

That  initial  impression  of  down-to-brass-tacks,  straight- 
ahead  aim  and  action  has  been  upheld  by  every  session 
since — hi  spite  of  the  puzzlement  over  the  Washington 


194    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

Conference.  The  opening  address  of  the  acting  presi- 
dent, the  young  Wellington  Koo,  Chinese  ambassador 
at  London,  showed  his  eleven  years  hi  America.  It  was 
merely  a  common-sense  statement  of  the  gains  already 
made  in  the  establishment  of  the  International  Court  of 
Justice  and  otherwise,  and  of  the  great  tasks  ahead.  It 
was  no  oratorical  effort  to  attract  world- wide  attention 
nor  to  pull  down  the  stars  and  let  their  glory  shine  for 
the  lighting  of  a  new  earth  under  an  old  heaven.  No 
French  or  Latin-Ajnerican  statesman  would  have  missed 
the  opportunity  to  open  the  party  in  that  way.  And 
when  he  had  finished,  everybody  would  have  said  "  Won- 
derful! Marvellous! — but — er — where  do  we  go  from 
here?" 

Still  the  scene  in  the  great  Hall  of  the  Reformation 
certainly  does  somehow  cause  the  heart  to  beat  rapidly 
and  the  eyes  to  fill.  Below  you  sit  at  their  appointed 
tables  the  carefully  chosen  representatives  of  forty-two 
out  of  the  forty-eight  sovereign  states  now  actively  tak- 
ing a  chance  at  the  world's  newest  and  hugest  experiment 
in  good-will  and  universal  betterment.  Evidently,  fur- 
thermore, these  nations  are  determined  to  play  this  chance 
with  all  possible  energy  and  though tfulness;  they  have 
sent  their  best  men  to  sit  there  at  those  tables — their 
best  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  Beside  Arthur  Balfour 
is  Mr.  Fisher,  Britain's  Commissioner  of  Education. 
Viviani  and  Leon  Bourgeois  sit  with  their  less  famous 
colleagues  for  France;  Ex-president  Matta  with  his  friends 
for  the  Swiss  republic.  Professor  Gilbert  Murray  of  Ox- 
ford is  with  the  African  delegation.  In  all,  thirteen  uni- 
versity professors  $ncl  several  women  are  mixed  with 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"       195 

various  prime  ministers — altogether  as  intelligent-look- 
ing and  high-minded  a  group  as  could  be  gathered  to- 
gether. Certainly,  too,  the  most  cosmopolitan  the  world 
has  ever  seen.  There,  alongside  Sir  Edward  Meyer,  rep- 
resenting India,  is  a  great  black-bearded  philosopher  of 
a  man  with  an  imposing  turban  on  his  mass  of  gray-black 
hah-.  When  he  stands  up  you  can  see  his  long  silk  coat 
with  just  a  glimpse  of  madras-silky  and  close- wrapped 
brown  trousers  showing  above  his  patent-leathers.  (From 
the  way  he  walks  it's  safe  to  assume  they're  brand-new.) 
And  all  these  " nationals"  mixed  up  together  splendidly! 
The  British  Empire's  table  is  surrounded  by  Australia, 
Argentine,  Bulgaria,  Costa  Rica,  Cuba,  Denmark,  Brazil, 
and  Austria ! 

This  same  impression  of  democratic  cosmopolitanism 
comes  in  the  lobby  before  the  bell  rings.  Everybody 
seems  to  talk  with  everybody  else.  That  is  one  big  gain 
now  that  the  delegates  meet  again  after  having  made  each 
other's  acquaintance  a  year  ago.  It  looks  immensely 
more  like  a  league  of  peoples  for  furthering  "open  cove- 
nants, openly  arrived  at,"  than  I  expected.  In  fact,  there's 
much  comment  that  Germany,  though  not  admitted  to 
membership,  has  already  joined  a  number  of  others  in 
registering  publicly  with  the  League  all  the  treaties  she 
has  entered  into. 

Yes,  as  compared  with,  say,  that  sombre  office-building 
at  Krupp's,  this  room  seems  to  offer  immensely  more 
elbow  room — more  than  any  I've  seen  in  Europe.  Its 
most  obvious  restriction  appears  to  be  that  of  language. 

Luckily  one  of  the  best  talkers  at  the  Convention  is 
the  chief  interpreter,  a  French  professor.  The  newly 


196    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

elected  president,  Mr.  Karnebeek  of  Holland,  scarcely 
finishes  his  address  in  French  before  the  professor,  with 
a  better  voice  than  most  of  the  speakers,  puts  it  into  ex- 
cellent English,  even  including  the  gestures.  The  Persian 
representative  who  talked  in  alleged  and  very  jerky 
French  almost  floored  the  interpretive  staff,  but  two  or 
three  of  them  took  turns  in  expressing  the  gentleman's 
enthusiastic  surprise  that,  thanks  evidently  to  the  Great 
War,  civilization  was  seeing  the  realization  of  its  dream 
of  "the  Parliament  of  Man,  the  federation  of  the  world !" 
One  of  the  representatives  of  Chile  was  sufficiently  ac- 
complished and  polite  to  make  his  remarks  first  in 
English  and  then  in  French.  It  is  easy  to  sympathize 
with  the  school  authorities  of  Geneva,  who  have  sub- 
stituted for  the  old  German,  courses  in  the  attempted 
universal  tongue,  Esperanto.  That  would  be  useful  to 
any  Swiss.  On  the  train  last  week  a  resident  of  Neuf- 
chatel  advised,  when  we  were  leaving  Basel: 

"We  will  do  better  to  talk  German  until  we  get  nearer 
French  Switzerland.  Then  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  talk 
our  beloved  tongue." 

At  the  assembly,  as  everywhere  in  Europe,  the  out- 
standing thing  is  the  amazing  progress  English  has  made 
toward  becoming  the  universal  language  of  business  and, 
therefore,  of  politics.  The  French  are  quite  properly 
alarmed.  Yet  hardly  a  paragraph  in  French  newspapers 
to-day  but  shows  the  breadth  and  depth  of  the  English 
penetration  by  means  of  such  words  as  "coming  man," 
"right  man  in  right  place,"  "interview,"  "meeting," 
"football,"  etc.,  etc.  Such  leaders  as  Benes,  the  prime 
minister  of  Czecko-Slovakia,  appear  to  represent  the  Eng- 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"       197 

lish  instead  of  the  French  type  and  attitude.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  talking  with  him  gives  the  impression  of  talking 
with  the  president  of  the  local — and  live-wire — Rotary 
Club  !  From  the  free  discussion  given  his  local  or  regional 
league  in  the  form  of  the  Little  Entente,  there  is  evidently 
no  feeling  that  the  big  League  Covenant  is  beyond  modi- 
fication or  amendment. 

In  the  whole  room  the  most  interested  participant — 
the  one  who  goes  and  stands  near  the  platform  when  he 
can't  hear  or,  with  his  delegation's  vote  in  his  hand,  awaits 
his  turn  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs — is,  next  to  his  chief,  the 
world's  most  famous  statesman,  Balfour.  He  is  said  to 
have  come  lately  to  a  complete  faith  in  the  more  idealistic 
and  democratic  conception  of  the  Society  as  represented 
at  all  times,  on  the  platform  and  off,  by  his  colleague, 
Lord  Robert  Cecil.  In  line  with  the  big  boyishness  which 
shines  from  his  large  face  and  frame,  Lord  Robert  opposes 
the  French  wish  for  an  armed  league,  and  insists  that  the 
appeal  of  this  organization  must  be  to  the  peoples  of  the 
world;  the  Tightness  of  its  decisions  as  approved  by  their 
good  sense  rather  than  upheld  by  bayonets,  must  be  its 
justification  and  its  strength. 

One  day,  before  the  assembly,  he  gave  a  very  frank 
scolding  to  the  representatives  from  Lithuania  and 
Poland: 

"By  their  failure  to  compose  their  differences  like  gen- 
tlemen, they  are  to-day  imperilling  the  peace  of  the  entire 
world." 

As  the  applause  came  from  all  quarters,  the  public 
opinion  of  the  civilized  and  organized  globe  appeared  to 
be  suddenly  concentrated  there  in  the  room — concen- 


198    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

trated  and  directed  toward  the  two  tables  where  it  could 
do  the  most  good.  Such  a  concentration  on  such  a  scale 
and  between  representatives  who  came  together  not  as 
strangers  but  as  acquaintances — such  has  never  before 
been  seen  in  history.  If  getting  together  in  the  same 
room  so  often  simplifies  the  capital-and-labor  problem  in 
a  great  factory,  surely  such  a  yearly  meeting — or  some- 
thing like  it — must  be  looked  to  for  realizing  all  the  prayers 
of  the  war-worn  and  war-sick  workers  over  here  and  at 
home.  Especially  when  these  annual  gatherings  are 
aided  by  a  permanent  year-round  group  of  secretaries 
chosen  from  all  parts  of  the  world  and  busied  with  the 
continuous  collection  of  facts  and  view-points  needed  for 
placing — in  the  two  official  languages — this  problem  or 
that  properly  before  the  diplomats.  Already  the  mail 
coming  to  the  new  offices  contains  the  prayers  of  an  as- 
tonishing variety  of  the  world's  unhappy  peoples,  as  if 
it  were  some  great  super-philanthropist.  Already,  too, 
many  of  the  makers  of  these  prayers  are  disappointed 
with  results — having  failed  to  realize  that  the  League  is 
not  so  much  a  new  organization  as  merely  a  new — and 
tentative — method  by  which  the  existing  governmental 
organizations  are  now  endeavoring  to  operate  in  certain 
fields  of  activity.  In  attempting  to  make  the  co-operation 
an  affair  of  opinion  and  not  of  arms,  the  temporary  dis- 
appointment of  the  world's  masses  was  made  unavoidable 
because  it  represented  a  definite,  conscious  choice  of  the 
simple,  slow,  and  democratic,  rather  than  the  imposing, 
sudden,  and  autocratic  method — the  Anglo-Saxon  rather 
than  the  Prussian,  the  method  of  "Main  Street"  rather 
than  of  Potsdam.  The  difference  between  the  two  is 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"       199 

the  same  as  in  the  famous  comparison  once  made  by  a 
distinguished  British  statesman: 

"  Monarchy  is  like  a  great  ship.  In  all  the  pomp  and 
panoply  of  power  it  rides  the  waves  with  all  sails  set — 
until  it  strikes  a  rock.  Then  it  goes  down  forever.  De- 
mocracy is  like  a  raft.  You  can't  sink  the  thing  but, 
damn  it,  your  feet  are  always  in  the  water!" 

The  International  Labor  Bureau  indicates  the  effort 
to  prevent  the  commercial  competition  of  the  politically 
co-operating  members  from  becoming  merely  a  contest 
as  to  which  nation  can  get  its  workers  to  stand  for  the 
lowest  scale  of  living.  As  such  it  should  be  most  useful 
to  the  nation  whose  workers  already  enjoy  the  highest 
standard — ourselves.  To  date,  for  instance,  our  absence 
from  it  has  prevented  the  European  powers  from  making 
universally  compulsory  some  of  the  advantages  on  ship- 
board which  we  have  already  made  compulsory  for  our- 
selves. Its  organization  appears  perfectly  natural — in- 
deed completely  indispensable — to  any  kind  of  effective 
world  organization,  considering  that  the  summer's  friends 
among  the  workers  have  all  shown  how  thoroughly  and 
inexorably  the  pressure  of  the  crowded  room  pushes  into 
one  inseparable  ball  over  here  the  threads  of  foreign  policy, 
internal  politics,  domestic  industry,  and,  finally,  family 
bread  and  butter.  At  any  time  the  passing  of  a  law  hi 
some  country  a  frontier  or  two  away  may  cut  off  10,000 
laborers'  families  from  their  means  of  livelihood.  The 
least — and  the  most,  probably — that  can  be  done  is  to 
attempt  agreement  that  such  laws  shall  not  cause  hurt 
to  the  workers  of  both  nations. 

"The    new    internationalists,"    according    to    Albert 


200    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

Thomas,  the  bureau's  secretary  and  formerly  a  distin- 
guished French  labor  leader  and  minister  of  munitions, 
" agree  largely  with  your  Krupp  friend  as  to  the  'self- 
determination  of  raw  materials/  They  would  lessen 
this  cause  of  international  friction,  not  by  having  all  the 
peoples  lose  their  individuality,  but  by  arranging  some 
feasible  plan  of  so  apportioning  nature's  bounties  as  to 
place  the  different  units  on  a  more  nearly  even  basis  of 
competition.  That,  they  claim,  would  still  leave  plenty 
of  room  for  the  present  differences  in  production  or  selling 
abilities.  As  to  the  feasible  plan  of  apportionment,  they 
are,  of  course,  far  from  agreement." 
i  Even  the  Swiss  have  seen  this  pressure  of  raw  materials 
— the  other  nation's  raw  materials — upon  their  domestic 
life.  During  the  war  they  had  to  part  with  much  of  their 
live  food  because  the  Germans  would  not  sell  them — at 
a  colossal  price — the  coal  needed  for  their  state  railways 
except  in  return  for  the  privilege  of  buying  cattle.  As 
a  result,  the  Swiss  Government  is  borrowing  money  at 
8  per  cent  for  paying  the  hundreds  of  workers  now  con- 
structing a  hydro-electric  plant  in  the  heart  of  the  Alps 
for  keeping  the  trains  moving  when  her  neighbors  get 
to  fighting  again. 

That  is  typical  of  the  way  peace-loving  and  peace- 
preserving  Switzerland  pays  the  price  of  the  difficulties 
of  its  neighbors.  Just  because  its  own  currency  has  not 
depreciated,  the  usual  pre-war  visitors  from  France  and 
Germany  can  now  not  afford  to  come — or  to  buy  goods. 
Much  unemployment  is  reported  in  the  watch,  textile, 
machine,  and  other  factories.  So  in  one  of  its  big  cities — in 
spite  of  what  look  like  handsome  factories  in  the  midst 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION "        201 

of  delightful  though  simple  villages — a  great  convention 
has  brought  together  the  country's  Communists!  Swit- 
zerland, joblessness,  and  Communists!  What  are  we 
coming  to? 

No,  it's  not  surprising  that  both  the  statesmen  and 
the  workers  of  this  crowded  continent  have  gone  even 
farther  than  their  fellows  in  England — and  enormously 
farther  than  their  confreres  in  America — in  understand- 
ing the  tie-up  between  their  'cross-frontier  relations  and 
their  'cross-table  rations.  That,  rather  than  the  nega- 
tive hatred  of  war  or  the  positive  dream  of  peace,  is  pretty 
surely  the  force  behind  that  inspiring  room  well  named 
"of  the  Reformation"  up  at  Geneva.  And  the  certainty 
of  the  development,  in  time,  of  something  like  that  same 
understanding  at  home  will  not  fail  to  mean  an  enlarged 
American  interest  in  all  such  meetings  on  the  part  not 
simply  of  the  leaders  of  our  international  labor-unions 
as  at  present,  but  of  our  employers  and  producers  as 
well. 

Later. — Speaking  of  'cross-table  rations,  I  took  dinner 
lately  in  a  very  grand  dining-car.  The  wife  of  my  French 
neighbor  gave  me  a  distressingly  careful  look-over  and 
evidently  asked  him  who  let  so  uncouth  a  person  into  the 
party,  for  I  heard  him  explain  that  my  clothes  showed  me 
to  be  one  of  the  railroad's  employees,  so  I  was  doubtless 
getting  my  meal  at  reduced  rates !  The  same  difficulty, 
incidentally,  somewhat  lessened  my  contact  with  the 
League.  If  "it  takes  nine  tailors  to  make  a  man,"  it 
requires  a  free  use  of  the  multiplication  table  to  figure 
how  many  were  called  upon  to  put  the  Second  Assembly 
into  the  hall.  So  it  has  proved  distinctly  embarrassing, 


202    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

in  addition  to  being  enjoyable,  for  me  to  lunch  and  dine, 
in  my  old  clothes,  with  some  of  the  meeting's  leaders, 
titled  and  untitled.  But  perhaps  that  is  only  one  more 
sign  of  their  surprisingly  democratic  spirit!  Anyway, 
it  is  this  spirit  as  much  as  anything  else  which  has  made 
me  feel  that  that  group  of  men  is  going  increasingly  to 
be  looked  upon  as  the  hope  of  the  world.  Their  organiza- 
tion is  certainly  far  from  perfect — but — well,  if  we  know 
a  better  'ole  in  which  to  protect  the  war-worn  peoples 
from  the  explosions  of  the  present  situation,  we'd  better 
go  to  it — or  else  help  the  others  dig  it ! 

P.  S. — Just  to  remind  us  how  all  countries  everywhere 
are  running  into  much  the  same  difficulties  hi  the  wake 
of  the  all-countries  war,  the  morning  paper  tells  how  "a 
family  of  ten  who  have  been  ejected  from  one  house  and 
unable  to  find  another,  have  lately  camped  out  on  the 
highway  between  Versailles  and  Paris.  Inasmuch  as 
they  interrupted  traffic,  the  authorities  of  the  district 
have  decided  that  the  military  authorities  shall  construct 
a  shelter  for  them." 

St.  Etienne, 

South  Central  France, 

September  14. 

"Since  the  armistice  80  per  cent  of  this  district's 
workers  have  been  discharged,  simply  because  it  is  to 
the  profit  of  the  employers  temporarily  to  suspend  opera- 
tions. It  will  be  a  misfortune  to  allow  these  factories 
with  their  expensive  tools  and  modern  equipment  to  be- 
come the  prey  of  private  firms  operating  them  for  their 
sole  profit.  The  government  should  retain  them  so  that 
the  workers  may  retain  their  means  of  livelihood.  Op- 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"       203 

pose  with  all  your  strength  these  machinations  of  your 
enemies!" 

Other  evidences  besides  this  flaming  poster  on  the 
town  hall  indicate  much  the  same  restlessness  in  this 
old  industrial  centre  as  was  apparent  in  the  hardworking 
suburbs  of  St.  Ouen  and  St.  Denis.  Naturally  enough, 
the  three  places  are  just  about  equally  dirty.  It  grows 
more  and  more  evident  that  a  careful  observer  could 
make  a  fair  guess  at  the  state  of  a  working  population's 
mind  by  simply  getting  what  the  statisticians  call  the 
" index  number"  of  inside  and  outside  faucets  to  the 
block.  Doubtless  the  absence  of  water  in  this  city  of 
well  over  150,000  is  in  line  with  the  closeness  to  agricul- 
tural simplicity  indicated  by  the  number  of  ox-carts  slowly 
going  through  the  main  streets.  That  same  nearness 
doubtless  also  furnishes  a  safety-valve  for  the  radicals. 
The  same  impression  of  an  old,  easy-going  industry  and 
commerce  came  in  the  post-office  this  morning  when  a 
man  rushed  up  to  the  telephone  girl  asking  immediate 
connection  with  a  business  house  near  by.  When  he  was 
assured  that  he  would  have  to  wait  for  a  half -hour  before 
he  could  be  given  the  line,  he  replied  with  heat: 

"Very  well,  then.  I'll  go  'round  and  see  them  first 
and  be  back  by  the  time  you're  ready!" 

This  same  impression,  indeed,  comes  in  every  French 
post-office.  The  chief  concern  seems  to  be  to  make  cer- 
tain of  the  maximum  security  of  age  rather  than  to  enjoy 
the  maximum  opportunity  of  youth — to  emphasize  the 
prime  desirability  and  importance  of  playing  safe.  The 
ordinary  citizen  seldom  uses  a  check  and  appears  to  feel 
that  the  banks  here  are  only  for  the  rich — altogether  a, 


204    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

far  cry  from  our  American  belief  that  at  the  bottom  of 
every  worker's  dinner-pail,  like  the  baton  at  the  bottom 
of  the  knap-sack  of  every  soldier  of  Napoleon,  lies  a  check- 
book. If  more  of  these  postal-savings  depositors  were 
in  the  banks,  keen  to  make  their  francs  do  heavier  work 
even  though  at  greater  risk,  there  would  hardly  fail  to 
be  a  larger  chance  for  these  men  and  women  to  get  out 
of  the  grooves  into  which  their  lives  appear  early  to  settle. 

Many  of  these  grooves,  it  must  be  said,  however,  have 
their  charm.  To-day  at  lunch  in  as  good  a  restaurant 
as  my  costume  would  permit,  I  noticed  a  man  of  out- 
standing appearance;  with  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  flow- 
ing beard,  intellectual  face  and  cutaway  coat,  he  could 
well  have  been  the  director  of  the  local  conservatory  at 
least,  if  not  president  of  the  departmental  university. 
A  moment  later  he  sounded  a  note  upon  his  private  tuning- 
fork  and  launched  into  a  song  of  moving  romance  and 
fine  feeling.  Shortly  thereafter  we  had  the  opportunity 
to  put  our  centimes  and  francs  into  that  magnificent 
chapeau!  Unfortunately  the  tumble-down  condition  of 
some  of  the  local  factories,  suggest  some  connection  with 
the  ancient  days  of  the  troubadours.  In  several  quarters, 
however,  are  some  of  the  newer  machinery  establishments 
bearing  names  internationally  known. 

The  commercial  capital  of  this  country  at  Lyons  sup- 
ports the  general  impression  of  moving  in  one  industrial 
groove  "  since  long  time."  Yesterday  the  walk  up  its 
historic  hill  brought  close  contact  with  numberless  stone 
reminders  of  the  old  Roman  times  when  the  place  served 
its  district  as  completely  as  to-day  and  for  much  the 
same  reason  in  its  position  at  the  confluence  of  the  Rhone 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"       205 

and  Saone.  The  capital  of  Gaul  becomes  the  second 
city  of  France.  Its  local  silk  culture  is  reported  languish- 
ing because  the  present-day  youngsters  dislike  the  ex- 
tremely painstaking  care  which  the  silkworm  requires. 
The  weaving  industry  finds  it  difficult  to  induce  the 
younger  generation  to  work  the  old  hand  looms  along- 
side their  fathers  or  grandfathers  spending  their  fiftieth 
year  or  more  on  exactly  the  one  machine  in  the  one  fac- 
tory which  has  provided  their  life's  job.  One  of  these 
men,  over  ninety,  continues  to  weave  less  than  a  metre 
of  silken  fabric  a  week.  But  that  metre  is  probably  worth 
seeing.  Undoubtedly  the  old  man  could  teach  my  miner 
friends  something  about  '''habit — habit  and  custom, 
m'sieu'."  Pretty  surely,  also,  about  that  patience  and 
imperturbability  which  is  behind  the  national  gesture  of 
shoulder-shrugging.  When  expressed  in  words,  it  takes 
the  form  of: 

"ga  m'est  egal!"  "It's  all  the  same  to  me — what's 
the  difference?" 

The  combination  of  these  two  national  acceptances  of 
grooves  is  perhaps  the  reason  why  conservative  tradition 
is  said  to  hold  so  strongly  in  so  large  an  industrial  centre 
as  Lyons — also  why  so  great  a  city  remains  to-day  with- 
out sewers.  That,  of  course,  accounts  for  the  scarcity 
of  faucets.  That,  in  turn,  according,  at  least,  to  the  dic- 
tum of  a  noted  German  philosopher,  accounts  for  the 
development  of  perfumery;  socially,  its  use  is  fairly  com- 
parable to  that  of  the  grease  on  that  pump  at  Lens. 

In  line  with  this  French  talent  for  accomplishing  large 
results  with  slender  resources  of  every  sort,  an  American 
hi  Lyons  told  me  how  he  had  done  some  fine  figuring  to 


206    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

prove  to  his  truck-gardener  that  the  purchase  of  a  flivver 
delivery  wagon  would  be  a  profitable  investment  as  com- 
pared with  his  slow  and  always  hungry  horse.  The  gar- 
dener looked  over  the  figures  carefully  and  then  handed 
them  back  with  a  gesture  of  finality: 

"But  you  have  failed  to  add  all  the  money  I  should 
have  to  pay  for  fertilizer!" 

It  would  be  proper  to  assume  that  France  has  long 
been  living  an  altogether  simple,  easy-going,  and  alto- 
gether happy  life  in  this  ability  to  make  much  out  of  little, 
except  for  one  thing  which  can  never  be  forgotten  in  con- 
nection with  modern  France. 

"Here  is  what  happened  here  in  France  at  various 
intervals  between  1870  and  1914,"  this  American  went 
on  yesterday.  "Suppose  you  were  a  French  citizen  of 
the  type  I  know  in  great  numbers.  You  would  go  to 
your  contractor  and  say,  l  Monsieur,  my  wife  and  I — we 
have  agreed  that  we  are  now  ready  to  build  our  home. 
On  Thursday  morning  at  nine  we  shall  be  here,  she  and 
I,  to  make  a  small  payment  and  sign  the  contract.  You 
will  have  workers  ready  to  begin,  yes?'  But  the  next 
morning  you  would  pick  up  a  paper  and  there  would  be 
the  head-line,  'An  Incident — A  Grave  Incident  Happened 
Yesterday  on  the  Frontier/  It  would  proceed  to  tell 
how  Captain  So-and-so  of  the  French  army  happened 
to  encounter  Captain  This-or-that  of  the  German  army 
in  some  little  restaurant  close  to  the  line,  the  conversa- 
tion ending  in  one  of  them  emptying  his  glass  of  wine  or 
beer  in  the  other's  face.  Merely  an  incident !  But  quite 
enough  to  make  it  necessary  for  you  to  go  to  your  con- 
tractor and,  with  a  shrug  of  your  shoulders,  say:  'You 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"        207 

have  seen  the  papers,  yes?  ...  I  am  very  sorry.  We 
must  wait/  And  quite  enough  to  make  the  contractor, 
with  a  similar  shrug  and  a  turning  of  his  hands,  like  this, 
throw  the  contract  into  the  fire.  At  such  a  time  every- 
body knew  that  all  the  men  of  the  country  might  per- 
haps be  called  out  before  next  Monday  to  protect  the 
homes  already  built  without  bothering  about  building 
others.  Think  of  living  under  such  conditions  year  after 
year,  decade  after  decade !  Of  course,  they  affected  not 
only  the  contractor  but  the  manufacturer,  storekeeper, 
tailor — everybody  from  the  top  down  to  the  least  skilled 
laborer.  And  now  that  France  has  no  guarantee  from 
any  nation  that  they  will  help  her,  exactly  the  same  thing 
is  continuing.  No  wonder  they  try  to  be  as  contented 
as  they  can  under  the  shadow  of  such  a  fear.  In  fact 
they  are  fearful  of  their  happiness  when  they  make  bold 
to  master  their  fear!  Only  a  few  days  ago  one  of  my 
friends  here  gave  me  his  version  of  the  war  like  this: 

"  'You  see,  we  French — we  were  too  happy.  We  had 
our  homes,  our  little  businesses,  our  families,  our  pensions 
against  the  future,  our  glass  of  wine  and  our  good  food. 
Why  should  we  trouble  to  protect  ourselves?  We  were 
too  happy — and  they  found  us  sleeping!7 ; 

The  high  price  of  vegetables  and  the  vigor  of  a  local 
wife  who  ran  away  last  week  from  her  husband  who  drank 
twenty-five  bottles  of  beer  daily,  were  the  subjects  of 
discussion  when  I  left  the  group  down-stairs  here  in  the 
little  inn.  The  unsatisfactoriness  of  government  was 
also  duly  considered,  in  line  with  the  evening  paper's 
comment : 

"During  three  years  M.  B has  been  pressing  his 


208    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

claim,  with  as  yet  nothing  of  reimbursement  for  damages 
caused  by  an  explosion  of  government  material.  These 
delays  were  caused  by  certain  errors  on  the  part  of  the 
clerks  in  making  the  records.  The  judges  now  find  excuse 
for  further  delay  by  discovering  again  these  same  errors 
which  led  to  the  first  delay.  So  it  goes  year  after  year  I" 

St.  Etienne, 
Thursday,  Sept.  15. 

To-day's  visit  underground  reconciles  me  to  my  in- 
ability to  stop  for  a  miner's  job. 

The  vein,  2,000  feet  down,  is  unique  in  possessing  at 
some  points  the  amazing  thickness  of  nearly  thirty  feet. 
If  it  were  not  limited  in  extent,  such  a  deposit  could  keep 
the  whole  country  in  coal  though  it  might  denude  the 
forests  to  supply  the  huge  amount  of  timber  required. 
But  it  is  only  too  evident  that  the  operation  is  on  a  very 
narrow  margin.  In  every  way  the  working  conditions 
appeared  much  older  and  less  desirable  than  those  in 
the  north.  Most  astonishing  of  all  was  to  find  certain 
quarters  so  little  ventilated  that  the  heat  was  as  much 
as  ninety-three  degrees  Fahrenheit !  It  gave  an  uncanny 
sensation  to  walk  through  the  passages  and  come  sud- 
denly upon  workers  standing  before  their  seams,  shovel 
or  pick  in  hand,  stark  naked !  Neither  that  nor  the  heat, 
however,  appeared  to  offset  the  force  of  that  " habitude" 
which  pushed  them  toward  the  usual  energetic  and  un- 
ceasing labor.  I  asked  one  of  them  if  the  narrow,  twisted 
ribbon  around  his  waist  was  for  holding  his  lantern  while 
pushing  the  coal  tub — even  though  personally  I  should 
have  preferred  to  hang  the  lantern  on  the  tub  or  in  my 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"       209 

teeth.    My  miner  friend  had  evidently  the  same  prefer- 
ence: 

"But  no,  m'sieu'.    It  is  to  hold  one's  belly !" 

In  addition,  the  mines  are  evidently  quite  gassy.  In 
each  district  numerous  additional  lamps  are  lighted  and 
taken  down  every  morning  wherewith  to  replace  those 
that  go  out:  it  is  considered  too  dangerous  to  use  the 
style  we  had  up  north  which  can — with  some  danger — 
be  relighted  underground. 

Altogether  I  am  just  as  happy  to  be  above  ground  to- 
night with  no  plan  for  descending  as  a  worker  to-morrow. 

"Me  leive  (live)  here  one  year  for  be  student — mak' 
my  practik  study.  Three  months  more  be  engineer  cer- 
tificate." So  a  young  man  this  morning  explained  the 
method  of  the  mining  schools  for  which  the  district  is 
noted.  It  appears  that  certain  great  disasters  in  this 
region,  a  generation  or  so  ago,  demonstrated  to  these 
schools  the  vital  necessity  of  closer  daily  contact  between 
the  chief  technical  officials  and  the  workers  and  their 
working  conditions.  So  it  proves  to  be  the  humble  annals 
of  this  little-known  district  that  are  now  playing  then- 
part  in  making  international  history  up  in  the  Saar! 

It  is  this  district,  also,  which  helps  to  give  the  answer 
to  that  query  of  the  days  in  the  north — How  could  France 
"carry  on"  so  amazingly  in  spite  of  the  enemy's  holding 
her  "Pittsburgh  district"?  One  of  many  expedients 
was  to  come  down  here  and  stage,  as  it  were,  a  hurried 
come-back  of  this  industrial  centre  of  the  older  France. 
Even  in  the  newer  industry  of  ribbon-making,  what 
looked  like  well-lighted  plants  proved  to  be  only  the  ship- 
ping-rooms for  ribbons  actually  made  mostly  in  the 


210    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

workers7  homes.  That  is  probably  here,  as  elsewhere, 
a  sign  of  bad  working  conditions,  though  there  was  no 
tune  to  make  inspection. 

"M'sieu'  Tom"  was  rightly  informed:  These  people 
are  less  cleanly,  self-respecting,  and  happy  than  their 
friends  in  Douai.  The  ubiquitous  street  markets  indicate 
pressure  for  the  utmost  cheapness.  Wooden  shoes  are 
the  usual  thing.  The  number  of  men  with  amazingly 
dirty  beards  and  altogether  the  look  of  what  we  would 
call  bums  bespeaks  considerable  alcoholism.  Saturday 
night  would  pretty  surely  confirm  the  general  report  of 
wide-spread  drunkenness.  In  the  worst  quarter  of  all, 
many  foreign  laborers  live  in  evident  discomfort — in- 
cluding a  number  of  Spaniards  and  Chinese.  It  is  al- 
most too  bad  that  the  Germans  could  not  have  sent  a 
few  bombs  here.  Then  the  district  might  compete  better 
with  some  of  those  new  and  up-to-date  plants  which  now 
dot  the  north — particularly  with  the  help  of  the  power 
which  can  be  shipped  here  from  the  great  hydro-electric 
establishments  over  in  Grenoble  in  a  manner  to  compete 
with  coal!  According  to  a  current  journal,  one  of  the 
group  of  British  steel  men  that  recently  visited  this  region 
was  told  by  a  proud  employer  that  a  certain  building 
had  lasted  for  seventy-five  years.  He  could  not  forbear 
the  pleasure  of  making  the  interpreter  inquire: 

"How  long  would  it  take  you  to  tear  it  down  and  put 
up  a  better  one?" 

My  own  mood  of  depression  caused  by  all  this  was  re- 
echoed by  the  head  of  a  local  miners'  union: 

"No,  we  do  not  get  much  into  politics  here — or,  for 
that  matter,  into  anything  outside  our  work.  For  the 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"       211 

present  we  have  all  we  can  do  to  keep  the  employers  from 
pushing  wages  still  farther  below  the  means  of  life.  And 
how  can  one  live  already?  Do  you  know  what  potatoes 
cost  here?  And  wine! — la,  la!  Well!  .  .  .  Yes,  they 
call  us  into  conference  and  so,  in  a  sense,  recognize  us, 
but  all  the  conference  is  for  is  to  tell  us  that  they,  in  their 
power,  have  decided  upon  another  decrease.  With  jobs 
getting  scarce  throughout  the  country,  what  can  we  do?  " 
(Business  of  very  wry  face  and  highly  active  shoulders.) 
".  . .  No,  there  are  not  many  Communists,  but  Socialists — 
of  these  is  every  one.  .  .  .  Jouhaux  and  his  C.  G.  T? 
.  .  .  Yes,  he's  a  marvellous  orator,  but — well,  for  them 
as  for  us  all,  the  employer  is  too  strongly  united.  .  .  . 
Of  course,  the  French  engineers  visit  the  pits  daily  but 
only  to  push  the  workers  for  more  production.  They 
have  little  interest  in  us  workers  as  workers. " 

With  wages  of  unskilled  labor  as  low  as  twelve  francs, 
narrow  sheets  evidently  are  pretty  nearly  universal  for 
the  town's  working  population,  organized  or  unorganized. 
In  some  of  even  the  best  homes  here,  too,  there  are  prob- 
ably a  number  of  maids  who  wish  for  some  undiscouraged 
union  leader  to  fight  for  them — against  the  national  habi- 
tude that  urges,  at  every  level,  to  the  cutting  of  narrow 
sheets  and  close  corners.  A  French  friend  tells  of  one 
well-to-do  native  householder  who  has  kept  the  same 
servant  year  after  year,  not  only  on  a  meagre  salary  but 
also — and  the  situation  forms  a  part  of  the  regular  gossip 
among  her  friends — in  constant  need  of  enough  to  eat ! 
Such  a  possibility  can  be  understood  only  after  seeing 
the  French  housekeeper  start  the  morning's  cooking  by 
taking Jier  great  key,  unlocking  the  cupboard,  laying  out 


212    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

exactly  the  proper  amount  of  eggs,  flour,  bread,  sugar, 
butter,  and  salt,  and  then  relocking  everything  before 
she  leaves  the  maid  to  her  day's  performance.  The 
strange  thing — and  the  characteristic — is  that  this  par- 
ticular maid,  so  the  gossip  runs,  continues  loyally  to  stick 
by  her  elderly  and  careful  mistress.  For  one  thing,  she 
obtains  a  small  pension  from  the  local  welfare  depart- 
ment; for  another,  she  is  afraid  that  her  patroness,  known 
as  she  is  throughout  the  town  for  her  closeness,  might 
not  be  able  to  get  another  servant ! 

The  discouragement  of  the  union  official  increases  my 
wonderment  whether  the  French  labor  movement  does 
not  owe  its  present  below-par  condition  partly  to  its  em- 
phasis upon  oratory — perhaps  even  its  normal  enjoyment 
of  about  one-tenth  the  influence  of  the  British  move- 
ment. It  ought  not  necessarily  to  raise  any  presumption 
against  the  strategy  or  brains  of  M.  Jouhaux  that  he  is 
one  of  the  country's  best  speakers:  our  American  labor 
leaders  are  also  orators  and  amazingly  able  presiding 
officers.  But  they  apparently  plan  to  do  more  of  then* 
work  with  the  employers,  and  they  are  less  advertised 
than  are  the  leaders  here  for  " giving  the  word"  at  this 
mass-meeting  or  that.  Although  we  in  America  have 
developed  the  luncheon  or  the  evening  meeting  far  be- 
yond any  other  country  of  the  world,  nevertheless,  we 
do  not  give  anything  like  the  same  importance  to  the 
trained  user  of  words  and  the  expert  arouser  of  emotions. 
It  would  hardly  be  too  much  to  say  that  not  only  French 
labor  but  France  in  general  is  ruled  by  its  orators. 

I  wonder  whether  that  in  turn  is  not  in  part  the  result 
of  the  earlier  mentioned  scarcity  of  newspaper  facts — of 


.THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"       213 

the  French  emphasis  upon  views  rather  than  news.  Cer- 
tainly this  plays  into  the  hands  of  these  " givers  of  words." 
In  any  event,  it  is  refreshing  to  see  just  now  that  Leon 
Bourgeois  is  using  his  oratory  over  at  Geneva,  along  with 
Lord  Robert  Cecil's,  in  an  appeal  for  a  wide-spread  news- 
paper and  general  publicity  programme  in  favor  of  the 
League.  Incidentally,  M.  Bourgeois  and  his  colleague 
M.  Viviani,  France's  greatest  speakers,  are  members  of 
the  Union  of  Intellectual  Workers. 

It  is  to  be  noted,  however,  that  even  the  streets  here 
endeavor  to  make  up  for  the  shortcomings  of  the  local 
papers.  Throughout  the  length  of  one  thoroughfare  to- 
day I  noticed  the  legend: 

STREET  OF  MICHEL  RONDET,  FOUNDER  OF  THE  UNION  OF  THE 
MINERS  OF  THE  LOIRE,  BORN  1841,  DIED  1908 

Who  knows  but  that  our  own  labor  problem  might  be 
advanced  if  we  were  willing  thus  to  give  publicity  to 
the  founder  of  a  genuinely  public-spirited  and  well-man- 
aged union? 

Not  far  away  is  " President  Wilson  Street."  It  is  per- 
haps a  little  less  popular  now  that  his  supposed  constit- 
uency has  so  far  deserted  him.  But  to  date  there  has 
been  no  unfriendliness  shown  me  as  an  American  of  the 
working  class  except  that  no  one  over  here  is  able  quite 
to  understand  us. 

P.  S. — "At  Roubaix-Turcoing,"  so  the  evening  paper 
reports,  "the  various  groups  of  general  strikers  now  in- 
clude the  municipal  employees  who  make  the  daily  ex- 
amination at  the  custom-house  gates  of  the  city.  They 
exhibit  their  dissatisfaction  in  a  peculiar  manner.  They 


214    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

present  themselves  without  their  uniforms  before  their 
offices  at  the  ordinary  hours.  These  offices,  however, 
remain  closed  and  the  inactive  officials  content  them- 
selves with  instructing  the  public  to  pass  their  declara- 
tions of  taxable  merchandise  under  the  office  door !  .  .  . 
Four  employees  connected  with  the  funeral  services  have 
been  authorized  by  their  colleagues  in  the  general  strike 
to  continue  with  then1  work.  The  bodies,  however,  will 
not  be  interred  except  in  the  temporary  vault  which  holds 
a  very  limited  number." 

In  the  same  despatch,  Mr.  Jouhaux  is  quoted  as  be- 
lieving that  the  trouble  is  caused  by  the  " patrons,"  who 
will  not  see  anything  but  their  private  interests.  "What 
is  needed  is  a  reformation  of  the  entire  system  of  pro- 
duction based  upon  co-operation  and  not  competition 
among  the  nations." 

A  near-by  column  gives  the  news  that  in  view  of  the 
alarming  spread  of  unemployment  in  England,  some 
hundreds  of  British  workers  are  now  being  set  to  work 
in  the  devastated  regions — to  clean  up  with  pick  and 
shovel  the  towns  they  once  defended  with  rifle  and 
grenade!  What  mighty  currents  are  set  in  motion 
throughout  the  world  by  the  everlasting  pressure  for  a 
job! 

Nevers, 
Saturday,  Sept.  17. 

"  An  old  concern,  France !  An  elderly  and  conservative 
people,  these  French — also  skilled  in  the  art  of  enjoying 
what  they  have  instead  of  ' hustling '  to  get  more."  So 
any  visitor  is  certain  to  cogitate  after  a  few  days  in  such 
long-established  conditions  as  the  past  week  has  shown. 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"       215 

This  afternoon,  for  instance,  permitted  a  visit  to  a  cathe- 
dral which  has  been  ministering  to  the  religious  needs  of 
the  local  population  for  something  like  800  years — with 
a  smaller  church  not  far  away  dating  and  serving  con- 
tinuously from  the  tenth  century ! 

Even  here  the  inevitable  posters  call  upon  the  laborer 
to  defend  his  wage  against  every  cut. 

"For  in  defending  your  wages  you  are  defending  your 
life  and  the  lives  of  your  companions  and  your  children. 
Organize  with  your  fellow  workers!  Ally  yourself  with 
your  union !  That  is  your  sole  defense." 

Such  a  modern  appeal  has  evidently  to  beat  hard  upon 
the  huge  inertia  of  centuries  before  it  can  greatly  disturb 
the  " equilibrium"  of  the  nation's  life.  No  wonder  these 
towns  appear  to  delight  in  their  setness — it  serves  as  a 
Gibraltar  against  some  of  these  new-fangled  threats  that 
come  only  with  modern  industrialism.  So  the  new  shops 
now  being  located  here  by  the  "Paris,  Lyons,  and  Medi- 
terranean Railway"  are  probably  not  altogether  wel- 
comed by  the  older  people,  for  the  entrance  of  large-scale 
industrial  operation  may  change  the  social  face  of  the 
city  and  increase  the  number  of  these  posters.  That  is 
not  very  likely,  judging  from  the  attractive  comfort  of 
the  workers7  homes  already  erected  amid  the  pleasant 
trees  and  just  near  enough  to  both  the  factory  and  the 
indispensable  fishing. 

Under  such  conditions  the  poster  preachment  is  not 
likely  to  have  the  same  appeal  here  as  over  at  the  famous 
Schneider  artillery  establishment  visited  yesterday  at 
Le  Creusot.  There  the  company  has  shown  great  in- 
terest in  pensions  and  the  older  native  workers  appear 


216    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

well  contented.  Among  the  younger  French  workers, 
also,  plans  are  evidently  in  operation  for  educating  those 
most  anxious  to  increase  their  skill  and  so  advance  their 
standing.  The  foreign-born  laborers,  however,  appear 
to  leave  something  to  be  desired.  Among  these  are  to 
be  seen  an  amazing  contingent  of  3,000  Chinese !  Most 
of  them  live  in  a  guarded  cantonment,  but  some  have 
worked  out  the  contracts  which  brought  them  over  dur- 
ing the  war,  and  now  give  signs  of  affluence  in  their  white 
collars  and  stylish  clothes.  Their  jobs  in  the  plant  do 
not  appear  any  worse  than  those  of  the  foreign-born 
workers  in  our  own  American  steel  plants,  except  that 
machinery  has  evidently  not  been  introduced  to  the  vari- 
ous processes  to  anything  like  the  same  extent  as  at  home. 
If  it  were,  a  good  many  of  the  present  force  of  18,000 
workers — 30,000  during  the  war — could  probably  be  laid 
off. 

There  at  Le  Creusot  and  also  in  the  great  artillery 
works  at  St.  Chamont,  near  St.  Etienne,  one  gets  again 
the  same  impressions  as  in  the  north — the  importance 
of  the  French  engineer  as  an  operating  official,  the  clean- 
liness and  accuracy  of  the  French  machinist,  the  popular- 
ity of  American  machinery,  and,  oddly  enough,  the  slight 
use  of  labor-saving  machinery,  particularly  hi  the  rolling- 
mills.  Still  further,  practically  all  machinery  here  goes 
at  considerably  less  speed  than  at  home.  This  last  makes 
it  easier  to  understand  how  American  steel  comes  to  be 
made  so  cheaply  that  it  can  compete  with  any  steel  in 
all  the  world  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  operators  of  its 
machines  are  better  paid  per  day  and  per  hour  of  work 
than  the  steel  workers  here,  or,  for  that  matter,  in  any 


IN  "THE  HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"    217 

other  country.  In  the  new  and  up-to-date  departments 
at  both  these  establishments,  as  also  at  Krupp's,  great 
locomotives  are  occupying  hands  which  previously  were 
busied  with  armor-plate  and  cannon — now  that  all  the 
world  is  waiting  to  see  what  the  Washington  Conference 
or  the  League  will  say  about  these  last. 

There  is  evidently  less  of  the  military  discipline  in  the 
industrial  relations  and  a  warmer  personal  relationship 
between  employer  and  employee  in  these  French  towns 
than  at  Krupp's.  But  hi  different  ways  the  same  word — 
paternalism — appears  to  express  the  chief  fault  of  all. 
Both  Krupp's  and  Le  Creusot,  however,  are  examples  of 
ownership  which  passes  regularly  from  father  to  son 
through  several  generations — ownership  both  of  the 
plant  for  the  masters  and  of  the  jobs  in  the  plant  for  the 
men;  and  in  the  course  of  such  generations  a  good  many 
difficulties  between  manager  and  worker  stand  a  fair 
chance  of  getting  straightened  out  to  a  degree  we  find 
it  hard  to  appreciate.  Such  long-continued  closeness — 
the  utmost  conceivable  antithesis  to  the  absentee  manage- 
ment such  as  we  know  so  well — creates,  however,  all  the 
more  expectation  of  cleanlier  towns  than  either  Essen  or 
Le  Creusot  or  St.  Chamont,  and  better  living  conditions 
than  at  the  latter  two.  As  at  St.  Etienne,  it  must  be 
remembered,  also,  that  in  these  French  manufacturing 
centres  the  whole  mode  of  life  is  less  compelling  than 
that  of  such  an  American  centre  as,  say,  Chicago.  Here 
the  farm  is  close  by — with,  usually,  a  demand  for  native 
workers  who  may  not  be  happy  in  the  factory.  It  is 
strange  to  step  out  from  watching  the  assembling  of  hand- 
some, up-to-the-minute  locomotives  or  of  ultra-modern 


218    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

"tanks"  which  replace  their  caterpillar  tread  on  level 
ground  with  motor  wheels  that  cover  fifty  miles  an  hour, 
and  then  hi  the  street  have  to  wait  for  a  teaYn  of  oxen 
to  pass ! 

The  broad  shoulders  of  those  oxen  support  the  impres- 
sions of  the  week — and  more  or  less  of  the  whole  summer 
— as  to  the  secondary  position  which  France  gives  to 
modern  industry  as  compared  with  us  youngsters  across 
the  Atlantic.  In  that  connection,  by  the  way,  this  morn- 
ing's paper  gives  a  storiette  by  a  well-known  writer  which 
sets  out  the  national  emphasis  upon  security  in  a  manner 
fairly  shocking.  According  to  the  tale,  the  aged  father 
permits  the  young  son's  marriage  to  a  stylish  young  so- 
ciety woman.  Shortly  after,  however,  he  breaks  the  news 
that  he  has  suddenly  come  upon  severe  financial  reverses. 
As  a  result,  the  loyal  son  and  the  new  wife  cut  down  their 
scale  of  living  hi  order  to  make  him  a  long  series  of  loans. 
Finally  the  young  man  is  forced  to  try  to  save  his  life 
by  a  short  and  inexpensive  vacation,  just  as  the  hoped- 
for  grandson  is  born.  In  vain.  The  strain  has  been  too 
great.  On  the  return  from  the  funeral,  the  old  father 
strokes  lovingly  the  head  of  his  grandchild  in  the  arms 
of  the  young,  but  widowed,  mother,  as  he  breaks  the 
news: 

"At  any  rate,  I  am  most  happy  to  think  that  the  child 
will  never  need  to  worry  about  his  future.  You  see," 
as  the  poor  widow  tries  to  understand  the  reason  for  so 
cruel  a  deception,  "you  see,  I  have  this  long  time  kept 
a  fortune  ready  for  him — 200,000  francs  in  all !  Is  it 
not  splendid?  I  told  you  about  my  supposed  financial 
troubles  only  in  order  to  make  sure  that  you  would  not 


THE    CLOSENESS    BETWEEN    MODERN    INDUSTRIAL    AND    CONSER- 
VATIVE  AGRICULTURAL   FRANCE   IS   TYPIFIED    IN   LE   CREUSOT 

You  "step  out  from  watching  the  assembling  of  handsome,  up-to-the-minute  loco- 
motives or  of  ultra-modern  '  Tanks ' — and  then  in  the  street  have  to  wait  for  a 
team  of  oxen  to  pass  !  " 


IN  EUROPE  GENERALLY,  AS  IN  THIS  SUBURB  OF  PARIS,  EVERYBODY 
WORKS,  INCLUDING  THE   DOG 


THE  "HALL  OF  THE  REFORMATION"       219 

induce  my  son  to  live  beyond  his  means  and  thereby 
ruin  us — and  this  my  grandson." 

Friends  here  say  that  the  story  is  somewhat  exaggerated 
but,  on  the  whole,  not  untrue  to  the  French  requirement 
of  a  sure  future  whatever  its  cost  in  terms  of  the  present. 

Am  sorry  fast  travel  has  made  impossible  the  usual 
number  of  personal  contacts  with  the  workers.  Glad, 
however,  not  to  have  missed  what  is  evidently  the  very 
heart  of  the  country's  older  iron  and  coal  industries,  espe- 
cially now  that  these  represent  the  new  post-war  France 
in  suffering  the  increased  complexity  caused  by  the  in- 
flux of  large  numbers  of  foreign-born  workers.  Whether 
she  will  avoid  the  class  misunderstandings  and  conflicts 
brought  by  the  same  change  to  America,  will  depend  on 
whether  the  employers  see  the  necessity  of  modified  poli- 
cies or  whether,  like  many  American  employers,  they 
continue  to  think  of  their  relationships  to  their  workers 
hi  the  same  easy-going  terms  of  simpler  days.  If  they 
do,  they  can  be  more  easily  forgiven  here,  considering 
both  the  resistance  and  the  safeguard  afforded  by  these 
hundreds  of  years  of  simpler  existence  and  relationships 
which  present  themselves  here  at  every  corner. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  requires  a  good  deal  of  an  effort 
to  think  of  mixing  in  the  stream  of  active,  modern  worries, 
hopes,  and  fears  of  the  troubled  world  of  the  latest  1921 
model  which  the  streets  of  Paris  will  present  in  the  morn- 
ing. 


CHAPTER  XV 
PARIS— AND  BY  AIR  TO  ENGLAND 

Paris, 

Friday,  Sept.  23. 

HERE  are  a  few  results  of  the  week's  operations  as  a 
human  listening  post  along  a  wide  front,  beginning  with 
the  forceful  and  urbane  statesman  now  occupying  the 
chair  of  the  President  of  the  Council,  or  Prune  Minister, 
in  the  famous  and  imposing  offices  at  the  Quai  d'Orsay, 
M.  Aristide  Briand: 

"  Yes,  my  experience  as  a  member  of  the  working  class 
that  composes  so  large  a  part  of  the  population  has  un- 
doubtedly had  much  to  do  with  my  serving  as  President 
of  the  Council  a  number  of  times.  You  know,  I  was  the 
father  of  the  'C.  G.  TV  and,  with  Jaures,  a  co-founder 
of  the  Socialist  group.  Sometimes,  as  you  can  imagine, 
is  it  not  so  ?  I  have  regretted  their  attitude — many  tunes 
my  worker  friends  have  turned  upon  me  because  I  felt 
constrained  as  an  official  of  the  government,  you  under- 
stand, to  put  the  interests  of  the  Republic  above  those 
of  a  class — any  class.  (You  recall  when  many  years  ago 
I  strenuously  fought  the  strike  of  the  railway  men,  yes?) 
Nevertheless,  I  know  that  the  dangerous  moment  for 
any  government  arrives  when  it  gets  out  of  touch  with 
the  mass  of  the  people.  That  is  why  Germany  lost  the 
war.  Its  government  failed  to  represent  the  true  senti- 
ments and  aspirations  of  the  German  people.  Such  a 

220 


PARIS— AND  BY  AIR  TO  ENGLAND          221 

separation  is  very  difficult  here  in  France.  Then,  too, 
most  of  our  native  workers  are  intelligent,  trained  arti- 
sans, makers  of  goods  of  quality  rather  than  quantity. 
It  has  been  so  for  generations.  .  .  .  Yes,  it  is  different 
now  that  we  have  regained  the  lost  provinces  with  their 
iron  ore  and  their  potash.  But  the  old  artisanship  is  too 
deeply  ingrained  in  the  French  spirit  ever  to  be  lost,  and 
we  shall  add  to  it  the  new  spirit  needed  for  finding  the 
markets  for  our  surplus. 

"In  that  connection  I  hope  that  the  great  nations  will 
find  it  increasingly  easy  to  get  together  not  only  for  the 
discussion  of  political  policies  but  also  for  agreeing  upon 
what  might  be  called  commercial  and  industrial  spheres 
of  influence,  thus  reducing  to  a  minimum  the  possibility 
of  war-like  competition.  Certainly  there  is  now  increased 
willingness  on  the  part  of  all  thoughtful  governments  to 
recognize  their  base  in  economic  and  industrial  affairs. 
And  that  base  is  not  national  but  world-wide.  No  one 
nation  can  alone  cure  itself  of  the  present  unemployment. 
The  causes  of  the  difficulty  are  international;  they  re- 
quire international — world-wide — treatment.  In  the  for- 
mer days  before  we  understood  the  economic  ties  which 
bind  the  world's  people  together,  the  statesmen  gathered 
to  discuss  a  boundary  or  some  other  political  problem.  In 
the  light  of  our  present  understanding,  I  do  not  see  why 
the  statesmen  and  diplomats  should  not  get  together  for 
finding  ways  and  means  of  bettering  business  conditions, 
and  most  of  all  of  avoiding  unemployment.  Surely  noth- 
ing is  more  evident  to  any  one  who  has  been  a  worker 
or  close  to  them  than  that  no  people  can  be  happy  unless 
its  means  of  livelihood  has  been  given  the  utmost  of  stabil- 


222    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

ity  and  regularity.  Failure  in  that  regard  drives  men 
toward  Bolshevism,  is  it  not  so? 

"So  with  Germany — if  the  German  people  settle  down 
to  some  regularity  of  life,  and  republican  institutions 
^become  more  firmly  established,  with  less  of  murder  and 
threats  from  the  military  reactionaries,  then  I  for  one 
believe  we  French  will  have  slight  reason  to  fear  the  re- 
sults of  their  normal  existence  and  development. 

"As  to  the  Society  of  Nations,  the  Upper  Silesian  dis- 
pute gives  an  excellent  example  of  its  possibilities.  With- 
out it,  fighting  might  be  going  on  at  this  moment.  Just 
see  what  has  happened !  We  diplomats  sit  about  the 
council  table.  After  we  have  heard  the  reports  of  the 
technical  advisers,  we  are  agreed — yes,  we  are  ready  to 
sign.  But  there  are  certain  of  us  whose  people — whose 
publics,  you  understand — would  not  consent  to  such 
action  on  the  part  of  then*  representatives.  They  are 
still  living  in  the  high  emotions  of  the  war,  is  it  not  so? 
Yes,  they  care  comparatively  little  for  expert  reports; 
they  are  too  excited  to  wish  to  make  big  decisions  upon 
the  basis  of  calm  and  careful  study.  Well,  then,  what 
is  to  be  done?  In  the  old  days  we  should  have  had  to 
separate,  each  wondering  who  would  be  the  first  to  save 
his  dignity  by  recourse  to  arms.  But  now — now  we  are 
able  to  give  the  problem  over  to  the  League.  We  can 
have  confidence  that  they  will  hear  the  same  reports,  and 
so  will  come  to  much  the  same  decision.  In  that  case, 
the  right  answer  will  have  been  obtained,  but  you  see 
plainly,  is  it  not  so? — quite  without  any  statesman  or 
political  party  paying  for  the  right  answer  the  price  of 
their  existence  and  further  usefulness.  Is  it  not  useful? 


PARIS— AND  BY  AIR  TO  ENGLAND          223 

Yes,  all  of  us  diplomats  are  now  in  a  position,  if  any  of 
our  peoples  dislike  this  decision,  to  shrug  our  shoulders 
and  say  that  it  is,  of  course,  something  quite  beyond  our 
control.  So,  you  see,  the  League  is  very  useful  here  be- 
cause it  permits  us  all  to  give  calmer  thought  to  certain 
great  subjects,  for  here  in  Europe  a  Prime  Minister  can- 
not go  too  far  ahead  of  his  people  or  he  is  given  his  de- 
parture. It  is  not  quite  so  true  in  America  where  in  a 
sense  you  are  less  democratic  in  that  your  representatives 
are  chosen  for  a  certain  fixed  period. 

"All  this,  I  think,  is  typical  of  the  new  situation  in 
which  governments  exist  to-day.  We  must  try  to  quiet 
ourselves,  to  see  things  clearly,  and  then  work  upon  them 
unitedly.  Just  as  victory  on  the  battle-field  came  only 
when  our  programmes  had  been  amalgamated,  so  now 
we  must  try  to  steer  away  from  separate  councils  and 
separate  programmes.  And  in  this  necessity,  the  economic 
situation  is  not  at  all  different  from  the  political.  In  both 
these  fields,  furthermore,  if  you  will  permit  me,  America 
has  too  wide  a  range  of  interests  throughout  the  world 
for  her  permanently  to  stand  aside." 

As  far  removed  from  him  as  possible  is  the  editor  of 
the  Communist  paper,  L'Humanite,  M.  Amede*e  Dunois. 
In  America  those  who  fear  the  good  sense  of  any  group 
they  don't  know  would  long  ago  have  put  in  jail  the 
writer  of  his  virulent  attacks  upon  the  present  system 
of  society,  or  his  various  defenses  of  the  Bolshevist  regime. 
It^was  a  surprise,  accordingly,  to  find  the  man's  face  a 
striking  resemblance  to  the  pictured  Christ !  From  mo- 
ment to  moment  his  look  of  seriousness,  rather  than  sad- 
ness, was  lighted  by  the  gleam  of  the  enthusiast's  hope — 


224    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

almost  cheer — as  he  recounted  the  progress  being  made 
by  his  cause  throughout  the  country: 

"Yes,  we  are  disappointed  that  affairs  do  not  go  better 
in  Russia.  Nevertheless,  it  has  to  date  served  only  to 
increase  our  faith  and  our  determination  that  some  day 
the  proletariat  shall  rule  in  this  country,  and,  by  reason 
of  the  Russian  experiment,  with  less  need  of  compromise 
with  capital  than  there.  In  fact,  the  morale  of  the  true 
Communist  here  has  never  been  better.  You  have 
noticed,  perhaps,  yes?  how  close  we  are  to  the  control 
of  the  ' General  Federation  of  Labor'?  Indeed,  if  the 
vote  is  counted  carefully  according  to  membership  we 
are  already  in  numerical  mastery.  The  federation  of- 
ficials, these  oppose  us  only  because  they  are  far  from 
the  mass  of  the  voters — much  farther  than  we.  Natu- 
rally they  want  to  hold  their  positions.  These  labor 
bureaucrats — it  is  from  these  that  most  of  our  opposition 
comes.  Just  think,  to-day  the  Socialist  organ  of  the 
federation  is  selling  only  one-twentieth  of  our  own  paper's 
circulation!  Remarkable,  is  it  not?" 

And  now  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Socialist  paper.  Even 
though  a  marked  conservative  compared  to  Dunois,  he 
is  said  to  have  missed  narrowly  a  firing  squad  for  his  dis- 
loyalty during  the  war.  Following  the  heavy  loss  of 
federation  membership  and  so,  of  course,  of  circulation, 
he  is  depressed  at  the  prospect  of  the  immediate  future 
of  the  organized  workers  of  France: 

"No,  we  don't  take  the  Communists  seriously — you 
see,  we  have  too  big  a  proportion  on  our  farms.  These 
are  not  likely  to  give  over  their  little  holdings.  .  .  .  Yes, 
to  be  sure,  there  is  something  to  hope  for  in  the  worker's 


PARIS— AND  BY  AIR  TO  ENGLAND          225 

present  intense  hatred  of  war  as  a  useless  means  of  settling 
disputes  between  nations.  The  difficulty  is  that  the 
worker  group  is  not  sufficiently  well-educated  to  be  proof 
against  the  government's  propaganda.  So  if  the  gov- 
ernment wanted  to-morrow  to  make  out  a  case  against 
Italy  or  England  it  would  within  a  few  weeks  so  fill  every 
worker  in  the  land — and  every  one  else,  for  that  matter 
— with  hatred  against  the  enemy  that  the  whole  crowd 
would  want  to  march  off  at  once  to  the  battle-field !  Yes, 
that's  true,  though  I  wish  it  were  not.  And  education  is 
so  slow  that  I  see  no  way  of  preventing  it  for  a  long  time. 
.  .  .  The  great  body  of  organization  members  bring 
constant  pressure  upon  the  leaders  for  higher  wages — 
always  higher  wages.  But  they  are  slow  to  study  or  to 
work  hard  in  order  to  increase  their  ability.  The  public 
is  also  too  reluctant  to  see  the  necessity  of  helping  its 
workers  to  get  their  proper  share  of  prosperity  and  so  to 
add  to  the  strength  and  happiness  of  the  whole  state. 
For  both  groups  the  easiest  way  appears  to  put  the  whole 
problem  into  politics — and  then  count  the  votes.  Our 
railway  men,  for  instance,  can  hardly  be  relied  upon 
greatly  to  assist  the  general  labor  movement,  simply 
because  they  hope  always  to  obtain  their  wish  through 
politics." 

"I  have  plenty  of  friends  among  the  younger  genera- 
tion of  Frenchmen,"  says  a  young  American  connected 
with  an  official  body  of  observers.  "They  discuss  by 
the  hour  not  whether  France  can  live  or  not,  but  whether 
she  can  last  as  much  as  fifty  years  or  not.  Their  ideals 
are  men  like  Poincare  and  Tardieu.  For  them  the  situa- 
tion is  so  serious  as  to  justify  any  sort  of  military  or  other 


226    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

policy  which  aims  to  secure  for  France  the  maximum 
chance  at  the  saving  of  her  life.  Naturally  the  explosion 
of  the  huge  quantity  of  chemicals  at  Oppau  confirms 
their  fears  of  a  new,  deadly  chemical  warfare.  They 
cannot  conceive  of  a  restored  France  without  German 
money — nor  a  safe  France  without  either  a  restrained 
Germany  or  an  armed  France.  Meanwhile  they  believe 
— like  many  others,  including  some  Americans  here— 
that  the  unconscious  influence  of  America  is  to  encourage 
Germany  not  to  pay — also  to  encourage  many  of  the 
different  nations  not  to  accept  the  decisions  made  at  Ver- 
sailles as  to  their  boundaries — and  so  to  keep  the  whole 
Continent  in  a  turmoil.  All  agree  that  the  interests  of 
America  are  well  represented  by  the  unofficial  repara- 
tions commission  under  the  leadership  of  Mr.  R.  W.  Boy- 
den  of  Boston.  Having  no  official  standing  in  the  dis- 
pute, the  commission  is  able  to  await  the  moment  when 
Italy  and  England  on  one  side  get  into  a  deadlock  with 
France  and  Belgium  on  the  other.  Then — with  the  help 
of  Mr.  Boyden's  remarkable  ability  to  listen  and  think, 
or  tell  a  good  story  at  the  right  moment — it  appears  won- 
drously  able  at  suggesting  a  third  alternative  which 
secures  the  general  approval. " 

An  English  statesman  gave  the  European  view-point 
on  America  yesterday  when  he  told  of  going  to  the  office 
of  the  commission  not  knowing  that  it  had  moved  across 
the  street: 

"When  the  concierge  tried  to  stop  me,  I  waved  him 
proudly  aside  and  went  up.  When  I  found  the  place 
bare  I  had  a  terrible  shock.  'My  God  I'  I  said  to  myself, 
'here  these  Americans  have  got  out  from  under  again  V" 


PARIS— AND  BY  AIR  TO  ENGLAND          227 

And  finally  a  Paris  business  man  who  has  had  con- 
siderable touch  with  American  industry: 

"Yes,  the  war  has  caused  much  trouble  in  French 
homes.  But  among  the  best  people  divorce  is  practically 
unthinkable.  Partly,  because  in  many  cases  half  a  man's 
fortune  must  go  to  the  wife  as  alimony.  Then  there  are 
always  the  children,  and,  you  know,  the  French  worship 
them  too  much  to  let  them  suffer  in  that  way.  .  .  .  Me, 
I  wanted,  of  course,  to  make  a  good  marriage,  as  we  say. 
It  was  necessary,  therefore,  to  wait  till  I  had  made  my 
career.  That  meant  waiting  until  I  was  thirty-five.  Of 
course,  you  would  not  expect  a  man  to  live  as  a  monk 
till  then!  .  .  .  Now  I  save  one-half  of  all  I  earn,  yet 
my  wife  fears  always  that  I  spend  too  much  on  her  and 
my  family.  Yes,  so  careful  and  so  anxious  are  we  French 
for  the  future  of  our  families  and  our  children.  My 
friends,  they  are  all  shocked  when  I  say  I  will  not  try  to 
give  my  fortune  to  my  boy  and  girl.  I  will  rather  train 
them  to  earn  their  livings,  my  daughter  at  typewriting 
and  my  son  in  engineering.  That  is  not  French.  Here 
the  father  at  the  head  of  a  business  is  too  apt  to  put  his 
son  in  after  him  even  though  it  might  be  much  better  to 
hire  an  outside  manager. 

"You  see,  when  we  earn  or  make  money  here  we  must 
be  careful  not  to  risk  it.  It  is  too  hard  to  make  it  again. 
For  one  thing,  our  business  is  so  much  smaller  than  with 
you.  That  is  why  many  people  here  look  down  upon  a 
friend  who  advertises.  'Ah!  Alphonse  is  advertising/ 
they  say.  'He  is  then  perhaps  alarmed;  things  cannot 
be  going  well  with  him.'  .  .  .  That  may  prevent  our 
learning  to  sell  our  new  supplies  of  iron  and  steel  upon 


228    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

the  great  scale  now  required.  Me,  I  fear  for  it.  I  think 
it  is  more  likely  that  we  will  make  the  supplies,  yes — 
for  we  do  that  well  with  our  capable  engineers — but  that 
we  will  put  them  in  the  market  through  the  selling  or- 
ganizations which  have  been  built  up  throughout  the 
world  by  the  Germans,  Belgians,  or  the  English.  But 
nobody  can  tell.  Here  as  everywhere  in  Europe  the  situa- 
tion is  that  of  a  kaleidoscope.  Every  week  it  changes- 
yes,  almost  every  day.  No  one  in  France — I  think  also 
in  Germany — can  be  dogmatic  about  the  future.  It  is 
only  too  hard  even  to  know  the  present — so  new  and 
strange  it  all  is  from  anything  before." 

To-morrow  at  ten  o'clock  our  airplane  starts  for  Lon- 
don. Perhaps  getting  up  in  the  air  will  give  a  perspec- 
tive helpful  to  the  final  placing  of  the  puzzle  pieces— 
with  the  help  of  the  cool-headed  cogitations  of  our  stolid 
British  friends. 

P.  S.— The  80,000  strikers  at  Roubaix-Turcoing  have 
not  yet  got  together  with  "les  patrons,"  who  plead  the 
disordered  markets  of  Russia,  Germany,  the  Balkans, 
etc.,  as  requiring  a  lowering  of  wages.  Fifteen  thousand 
soldiers  are  on  duty  in  the  effort  to  keep  the  peace.  The 
country's  standing  army,  by  the  way,  is  reported  this 
morning  as  totalling  769,628,  including  87,000  now  in 
the  Rhine  district. 

Paris  Flying  Field, 
Saturday  morning, 
September  24. 

Waiting  for  our  " avion"  from  London — reported  de- 
layed by  fog.  Luckily  the  time  passes  quickly.  Every 
few  minutes  a  motor  drives  up  and  unloads  a  group  of 
men  and  women  who  walk  in  for  the  weighing  of  their 


PARIS— AND  BY  AIR  TO  ENGLAND          229 

bags  and  then  pass  out  to  the  field  and  up  the  steps 
into  a  small  monoplane  or  into  the  salon  of  one  of  the 
larger  biplanes  marked,  say,  for  Brussels  or  Berlin.  A 
moment  later  an  assistant  gives  the  big  propeller  a  whirl. 
With  the  exhaust  roaring,  the  machine  "taxies"  down 
the  field,  then  turns  and,  with  a  perfect  cannonading  of 
the  exhaust  at  full  speed,  bounces  between  ground  and 
air  for  a  few  rods,  then  finally  is  up  and  off  into  the  gray 
haze  of  the  far  horizon.  A  little  later  a  big  bird  is  visible 
from  the  direction  of  Strassburg  or,  perhaps,  Prague,  and 
shortly  thereafter,  when  the  big  blades  are  still,  the  at- 
tendants put  up  the  steps  for  a  group  of  stylish  people 
to  alight  and  walk  through  the  custom-house  and  into 
the  taxi  for  down-town  Paris. 

Evidently  this  matter  of  air  transportation  has  come 
to  stay — because  it  has  come  to  serve.  Instead  of  spend- 
ing four  or  five  hours  on  the  train  to  the  Channel,  some 
uncomfortable  weather  on  that  restless  water,  then  the 
train  again  to  London,  a  flight  of  less  than  three  hours 
from  here  puts  one  in  Croyden  Field,  a  half-hour's 
ride  from  Piccadilly  Circus.  And  the  cost  is  practically 
the  same  as  first-class  railway  fare.  Such  charges  require 
the  help  of  government  subsidy.  That  air  transportation 
is  so  common  here  and  not  in  America  is,  I  presume,  be- 
cause it  is  one  of  the  commercial  by-products  of  the  uni- 
versal interest  in  national  self-protection  here. 

At  present  my  chief  objection  is  that  this  Grand  Cen- 
tral Station  of  the  air  routes  is  located  in  a  part  of  Paris 
which  is  most  travelled  by  funerals.  Nobody  appeared 
particularly  happy  to  come,  this  morning,  past  six  differ- 
ent hearses  and  processions ! 

Here  comes  the  huge  bird  now ! 


230    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

Up  in  the  air ! 

The  noise  of  the  two  motors  out  on  the  great  wings  is 
deafening.  It's  impossible  to  talk  to  any  of  the  seven 
other  passengers  in  the  wicker  chairs  on  both  sides  of  the 
aisle  that  opens  out  from  the  cabin  to  the  cockpit  and 
our  two  pilots.  Already  we  have  out  our  papers  and 
pencils  for  naming  to  each  other  this  or  that  of  the  land- 
marks passing  beneath.  The  beauty  of  the  country  at 
our  feet  is  amazing— great  plaques  of  green  with  huge 
figures  of  yellow  sunlight  where  the  clouds  let  it  through. 
Now  the  pattern  is  crisscrossed  with  the  slender  shining 
silvers  of  the  steel  rails.  We  must  be  up  only  about  1,000 
feet,  else  we  could  not  see  the  swishing  of  the  horses'  tails. 
Here's  a  field  of  a  wondrous  combination  of  mauve  and 
pink — the  difference  between  the  turned  and  unturned 
earth  of  the  farmer's  plough.  If  only  he  could  see  the 
stunning  rug  he's  making!  And  that  colossal  bouquet 
of  different  shades  of  green  and  brown  and  rusty  yel- 
lows— of  course  it's  nothing  but  a  new  aspect  of  an  old 
forest ! 

What  a  satisfying  noise  comes  from  the  solid  grind  of 
hard-working  motors.  I  hug  every  particle  of  it — for 
the  reassurance  it  gives  of  the  force  that  is  working  for 
us.  Being  in  a  balloon  without  being  able  to  hear  the 
gas  working  for  you  must  be  terrible !  If  the  grind  hesi- 
tates or  changes  for  the  briefest  fraction  of  an  instant, 
every  particle  of  soul  and  body  is  on  tiptoe — and  regular 
breathing  returns  only  with  the  regularity  of  the  strain- 
ing motors. 

Field-glasses  report  that  the  great  machine  shop  di- 
rectly beneath  us  believes  thoroughly  in  cleanliness  with- 


PARIS— AND  BY  AIR  TO  ENGLAND         231 

in  its  compact  high  fence.  .  .  .  This  method  of  travel 
makes  plainer  than  ever  how  solidly  France  has  placed 
her  conservative  feet  upon  beautiful  farms — beautiful 
and  comfortable  farms,  like  that  one  over  there  now  where 
the  pigs  are  scampering  about  the  edge  of  the  little  pond 
by  the  manure  pile  within  the  hollow  square  of  the  artistic 
and  bounteous  brick  barn. 

Behold  Beauvais  cathedral  beneath  us — like  a  great 
architectural  and  ecclesiastical  hen  protecting  her  chil- 
dren beneath  those  red-tiled  roofs  of  the  compact  town. 
The  hen  must  feel  queer  to  feel  herself  become  a  land- 
mark for  air  pilots !  The  long  rectangular  black  bug  down 
there  is  doubtless  an  express-train.  The  engineer  prob- 
ably takes  his  fifty  miles  an  hour  seriously;  from  here  it 
looks  like  old  stuff !  And  now,  just  beneath  us,  the  river 
Somme  shows  a  network  of  burnished  gold  as  it  goes  out 
to  meet  the  sea,  in  a  great  yellow  ocean  stretching  off 
into  the  hazy  north.  At  the  Channel's  edge  the  funnels 
of  a  sunken  steamer  show  up  through  the  breakers,  while 
the  dozens  of  little  brown  triangles  of  sail  bring  the  fish- 
ing fleet  back  home. 

The  air  is  changing.  ...  I  wish  the  plane's  tip  would 
not  move  about  quite  so  much.  It's  unpleasant,  too,  to 
see  the  drops  of  oil  come  down  out  of  the  engine  on  one 
of  the  great  steel  struts,  quaver  on  their  way  out  to  the 
wing's  farthest  edge  and  then  gather  up  courage  from 
other  tiny  drops  and  finally,  after  many  efforts,  jump 
boldly  off  into  space.  Wonder  where  they  land — or  if 
they  land.  .  .  .  Now  France  is  hidden  behind  a  bank 
of  clouds  and  England  is  nowhere  to  be  seen — nothing 
but  green  water  and  whitecaps  beneath  us — and  inside  us 


232    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

the  memory  of  the  plane  which  only  a  few  days  ago  in 
this  same  part  of  the  route  suddenly  fell  as  its  motors 
stopped,  one  of  them  starting  up  again  just  as  it  struck 
the  water.  .  .  .  Nothing  ahead  except  a  bank  of  clouds 
— now  they're  alongside.  Each  wisp  seems  to  hiss  its 
name  as  we  whizz  past  it — mist!  mist!  Clouds  hurry 
by  on  both  sides.  Has  the  evening  arrived  so  suddenly? 
.  .  .  Think  I'll  return  to  Paris  by  train ! 

Ah,  there's  England  ahead !    Feeling  better,  thanks. 

Who  could  believe  it  possible  to  find  England  so  dif- 
ferent from  France — with  so  small  a  piece  of  water  be- 
tween! No  longer  the  red  roofs  and  the  mauves  and 
pinks  and  lavenders  in  the  fields.  Tiles  and  turf  here  all 
of  the  same  tawny  or  dull  brown.  Amazing!  Is  this 
the  result  of  a  different  climate  or  merely  a  different  dis- 
position? Or  both?  And  is  the  second  caused  by  the 
first?  No  wonder  the  English  are  matter-of-fact  and 
the  French  emotional !  Yes,  European  nature  is  a  quick- 
change  artist!  A  thirty-mile  partition  and  a  complete 
change  of  both  aspect  and  disposition ! 

Nothing  but  clouds  again — black  and  ugly.  Ought  to 
be  picking  up  the  smoke  of  London.  Just  to  be  frank, 
I  wish  we  would.  I  don't  like  that  stage-whisper  hiss  of 
hurrying  fog,  even  though  it's  we  who  do  the  hurrying. 
Wonder  if  they  have  gas  enough  to  get  back  to  those 
big  fields  by  the  coast,  if  we  have  to  land.  Evidently 
the  motors  are  unhappy.  Funny  how  disconcerting  that 
is.  The  pilot  is  evidently  anxious. 

Neighbor  across  the  aisle  points  to  clouds  and  shakes 
head.  I  laugh — but  find  I  can't  hear  myself  laugh- 
ing. Makes  a  fellow  feel  queer — as  though  he  didn't 


PARIS— AND  BY  AIR  TO  ENGLAND         233 

mean  it.  Why  doesn't  London  show  up?  The  sheep 
are  bigger  here — no,  we  are  flying  much  lower — only 
two  or  three  hundred  feet.  That's  dangerous  for  so  huge 
a  machine.  Still  the  clouds — and  their  whispers — 
"Miss-ed!  Missed!"  Not  nice!  Well,  if  they're  right, 
I've  certainly  had  a  fine  tune  while  the  going  was  good. 
Clouds,  clouds.  .  .  .  More  engine  trouble!  It  must 
be  ticklish  getting  this  affair  down  into  one  of  these  tiny 
fields.  Well,  anyway,  "  everybody's  been  awfully  good 
to  me" — given  me  a  bully  time,  like — suppose  I  ought 
to  have  thanked  'em  more.  Engine's  stopped!  We're 
going  down — fast !  Whew ! — we  certainly  gave  that  roof 
a  close  call !  What's  up — or,  rather,  down !  We're  bounc- 
ing! Wha.  .  .  . 

Later. — Police  station — Maidstone. 

" Hills  between  us  and  Croyden  too  high,"  the  pilot 
explained  after  bringing  us  to  a  standstill  hi  a  stubble- 
field  as  gently  as  a  dove.  "We'll  get  a  machine  and  take 
you  up  to  the  station  near  by,  and  you  can  take  the  train 
for  the  thirty  miles  into  London." 

We  had  hardly  landed  before  half  the  population  of 
the  village  was  out  to  greet  us,  including  the  local  con- 
stable. Now — after  a  ride  in  an  American  flivver-van — 
we  are  in  the  status  of  practically  "  alien  invaders."  One 
of  the  passengers  has  just  declared  a  quart  of  whiskey; 
that  and  our  surrendered  passports  are  the  only  results 
after  waiting  four  hours  for  the  local  excise  officials. 

Still  later. — A  friend  who  waited  at  Croyden  reports 
that  the  company  officials  there  were  apparently  more 
worried  about  us  than  we  ourselves — and  I'm  willing  to 
testify  that  that's  saying  a  lot. 


234    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

"Up  until  you  reached  the  French  side  of  the  Channel, 
the  manager  was  continually  talking  with  your  pilot  by 
wireless  telephone — with  everything  quite  all  right.  Then 
for  what  seemed  several  hours,  but  probably  wasn't,  he 
was  unable  to  get  you.  He  kept  calling  for  you  out  into 
space — with  no  reply  whatsoever.  Sort  of  creepy — yes, 
jolly  uncanny,  you  know.  And  the  Mogul,  he  nearly 
went  off  his  head !  Finally  when  your  man  answered, 
he  threw  down  the  instrument  and  waltzed  about  the 
place — yes,  over  the  chairs  and  on  the  desk!  When  he 
calmed  down  he  got  word  of  your  trouble  with  the  clouds. 
Finally,  he  gave  the  pilot  orders  to  pick  out  the  biggest 
field  he  could  find  and  send  you  on  by  rail.  '  Jolly  fine 
pilot,  that  chap — the  best  in  all  the  air  lanes  of  the  world/ 
he  told  us  when  he  finally  got  word  you  were  down  safe 
and  sound.  Next  time  I'd  rather  not  meet  you  at  Croy- 
den,  if  you  don't  mind." 

Until  fog  is  mastered  I'm  afraid  that  flying  is  not  going 
greatly  to  relieve  the  press  of  Europe's  crowded  room 
inside  those  various  frontiers,  although  it  must  be  a  great 
joy  to  fly  over  not  merely  one  but  several  of  those  inces- 
sant custom-houses ! 


CHAPTER  XVI 
READJUSTMENT  IN  ENGLAND 

London, 
Friday,  Sept.  30. 

THE  first  man  encountered  here  was  an  ex-soldier  out 
of  work  and  asking  for  a  penny !  The  2,000,000  of  British 
unemployed  make  practically  the  same  proportion  as 
the  4,000,000  now  reported  jobless  in  America.  The 
country's  mayors  have  been  telling  Lloyd  George  that 
the  situation  is  too  wide-spread  for  them  to  cope  with 
on  any  merely  local  basis.  M.  Briand  would  say,  and 
Lloyd  George  would  probably  agree  with  him,  that  every 
prime  minister  would  do  well  to  go  to  some  international 
and  world-wide  central  office  and  make  exactly  the  same 
report.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  tariff  walls  erected  by 
the  different  countries  in  their  single-handed  efforts  at 
job  protection  have  so  far  done  about  as  much  harm  as 
good. 

The  new  idea  here  seems  to  be  that  every  man  has 
an  inalienable  right  to  either  "Work  or  Maintenance." 
The  discussion  is  not  so  much  what  is  the  right  amount 
to  pay  for  a  workless  worker  in  the  form  of  insurance 
benefits  —  over  300,000  have  drawn  their  maximum 
twenty-two  weeks  of  benefits — but  what  constitutes  a 
full  standard  of  living  for  a  family  of,  say,  five,  whether 
obtained  by  work  or  charity. 

"  Why  don't  I  go  over  and  get  a  job  at  B 's?"  one 

worker  asks.  "Well,  why  should  I  work  my  'ead  off  for 

235 


236    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

a  quid  (pound)  a  week  .  .  .  yes,  a  quid  a  week.  Well, 
'ere  I  am  on  the  local  doles  a-gettin'  my  two  pounds- 
no,  that's  the  doles  (charity),  not  insurance  money  be- 
cause that's  all  done  in.  On  that  job  I'd  get  only  three 
pound  or,  perhaps,  three  pound  ten.  That  makes,  you 
see,  only  twenty  or  thirty  shillin*  more  for  my  work  than 
for  my  no-work." 

"Of  course,  there  is  a  good  deal  of  work  that  needs 
doing,  but  nobody  will  let  it  out,"  so  a  citizen  observes. 
"It's  too  expensive.  You  hire  a  man  to  do  a  short  job 
and  he  stretches  it  out  to  make  it  last  as  long  as  possible. 
He  nurses  it  until  it  grows  into  a  big  job  at  a  big  cost— 
a  cost  all  out  of  reason.  That's  his  way  of  keeping  him- 
self from  the  municipal  charity  doles  and  also  of  making 
sure  that  he  doesn't  take  more  than  his  share  from  other 
men  that  need  it.  Lately  one  of  my  own  friends,  a  chap 
that  used  to  be  a  good  man,  told  me  his  story:  'I'm  not 
afraid  of  work  and  never  'ave  been,  but  I  notice  that 
w'ilst  I  do  one-fourth  of  the  'ole  job,  all  the  others  shuffle 
around  and  then  get  paid  as  much  as  ever  I  do.  So  I'm 
takin'  it  now  as  easy  as  they  and  I  don't  see  why  as  ever 
I  shouldn't.'  " 

On  the  other  hand,  over  in  my  Welsh  mining  town, 
my  friends  are  evidently  working  considerably  harder 
than  when  I  was  among  them  a  year  ago.*  After  the 
close  of  the  mine  strike,  hardly  more  than  half  of  the 
former  workers  were  hired  back — but  with  the  surprising 
result  that  production  became  almost  normal.  Unfor- 
tunately, there  is  much  unhappiness  among  them  after 

*"Full  Up  and  Fed  Up":  The  Worker's  Mind  in  Crowded  Britain. 
(Page  61.) 


READJUSTMENT  IN  ENGLAND  237 

their  thirteen  weeks'  strike  and  its  ending  in  what  they 
consider  a  severe  defeat.  During  the  first  of  these  weeks, 
the  little  town  was  in  an  uproar  when  crowds  of  the  miners 
tried  to  prevent  the  safety  men  and  the  office  clerks  from 
manning  the  pumps  and  saving  the  mines  from  destruc- 
tion. 

"The  worse  we  mikes  it  for  the  mawsters,  the  sooner 
over.  In  four  days  we'll  'ave  them  on  their  knees/'  so 
the  Bolshies  told  their  fellows. 

"You  see  that  hole  up  there  half-way  to  the  top  of 
the  hill?"  one  of  my  friends  explained.  "One  of  our 
miners  was  killed  there.  You  see,  the  whole  place  ran 
out  of  coals.  With  the  soup  kitchens  busy,  some  of  the 
strikers  tried  to  make  a  living  by  going  up  into  the  hills 
on  almost  anybody's  property  and  taking  out  a  few  sacks 
for  selling  on  the  street.  This  one  was  covered  by  a  fall 
as  he  dug.  His  son  ran  for  help.  Just  as  they  were  about 
to  reach  the  old  fellow,  three  other  falls  came  in  quick 
succession  and  they  could  hear  him  dying  a  few  feet 
away.  It  has  been  very  bad,  here." 

"If  the  leaders  whom  we  refuse  to  employ  call  us  un- 
fair," one  of  the  mine  officials  explained,  "we  show  them 
their  production  records  during  the  days  they  were  prac- 
tising 'ca-canny.'  Some  of  them  know  very  well  that 
for  weeks  they  filled  only  one  tram  of  coal  a  day — be- 
sides boasting  about  it." 

"Ah,  it's  terrible,"  says  my  old  friend,  the  repairer. 
"Terrible  punishment  our  leaders  do  'ave — not  to  be 
'set  on'  again  after  all  this  while.  But  it's  fair  devils 
these  employers  of  ours — all  employers — do  be — fair 
devils  and  naught  else,  I  tell  ye.  ...  Only  eleven  shil- 


238    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

lings,  one  penny,  we're  gettin'  now — with  another  cut 
to  come  soon.  They  do  'ave  the  power  now,  ye  see  ?  Yet 
'twas  not  oos  as  was  licked — only  our  leaders.  They 
backed  down — after  we  told  'em  in  the  vote  to  stick — 
only  a  week  befoor." 

"Ah,"  adds  the  wife,  "'twould  be  all  right  if  only 
food  would  come  down.  Instead  it  goes  always  oop. 
Oh,  'tis  terrible  for  men  to  'ave  to  work  for  so  little;  with 
the  children  wantin'  of  their  shoes  and  all,  and  shoes 
that  dear!" 

Good  old  Tom,  the  boss,  looked  old.  An  accident  had 
put  him  into  bed  for  days  with  life  hanging  in  the  balance. 

"Yes,  'e  'ave  let  down  a  bit,  like,  'e  'ave,"  volunteered 
his  wife.  "'E  lets  the  men  carry  on  now  with  only  'is 
eye  over  them.  Because,  in  a  sense  o'  speakin',  the  acci- 
dent was  needless;  it  'appened,  you  see,  when  'e  kept 
at  'is  work  after  a-finishin'  of  'is  turn." 

A  little  later  I  found  the  young  leader  of  the  "Bolshies," 
who  last  year  took  the  trouble  to  write  up  into  Yorkshire 
warning  his  "comrades"  there  against  me  as  a  spy.  Re- 
fused work  here  in  the  pits,  he  is  now  running  a  candy 
store — several  babies  came  in  with  their  pennies  as  we 
talked. 

"They've  the  upper  hand,  now,  the  masters,  but  of 
course,  'tis  only  temporary.  All  this  unemployment  and 
all  this  war  and  bitterness,  they  are  nothing  but  the  set- 
ting of  the  stage  for  the  final  calling  of  the  turn  we  Bol- 
shies  are  waiting  for." 

"Yes,  I'd  say,  they  were  almost  right  in  believing  that 
another  great  war  will  come  within  twenty  years  and 
will  bring  with  it  the  end  of  civilization,"  he  replied  when 


READJUSTMENT  IN  ENGLAND  239 

I  asked  him  what  he  thought  about  this  evident  con- 
census of  the  opinion  of  both  the  workers  and  the  states- 
men of  Europe.  "Almost  right  they  are,  I'd  say,  but 
not  quite.  'Twill  be  the  end,  not  of  civilization,  but  of 
capitalism — of  the  system  we  now  know.  That's  why 
we  Bolshies  are  hoping  that  the  President's  Conference 
and  the  League  of  Nations  will  fail.  For  if  they  do  fail, 
then  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  will  be  at  each  other's 
throats  within  ten  years,  without  waiting  for  twenty. 
And  when  they  do  get  at  each  other's  throats,  all  we  Bol- 
shies have  to  do  is  to  wait  'til  they  get  through  with  those 
throats  and  then  we  can  walk  in  and  own  the  whole  place. 
.  .  .  Yes,  all  this  unrest  and  unhappiness  is  leading  to 
the  barricades.  And  on  the  other  side  the  barricades 
you'll  find  us  and  the  system  of  society  we  stand  for." 

Perhaps,  it  is  because  this  states  exactly  the  alternative 
proposed  by  the  radicals  over  here  that  makes  Europe 
so  much  more  interested  in  pushing  forward  any  pos- 
sible means  of  peaceful  organization.  Thus  Mr.  Gar- 
vin,  the  extremely  thoughtful  editor  of  The  Observer, 
expresses  his  belief  that  it  the  League  of  Nations  were 
to  be  wrecked  to-morrow  morning,  we  should  have  to 
organize  another  or  a  substitute  to-morrow  night  in  order 
to  carry  on  all  the  hundred  and  one  responsibilities  which 
have  been  assigned  to  it. 

On  the  train  down  out  of  the  crowded  valley — over 
200,000  people  are  packed  together  hi  thirty  narrow  miles 
— a  travelling  salesman  gave  a  new  point  of  view  on  the 
"coops,"  or  co-operative  societies: 

"For  my  own  part,  I'm  jolly  well  through  trying  to 
sell  them  at  all.  You  see,  they  have  to  pay  small  salaries 


240    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

in  order  to  show  profit.  So  everywhere  you  go^the  officer 
in  charge  says  to  you:  'Well,  now,  Jack,  I'm  sorry,  you 
know,  but  'ere's  'ow  it  is.  Your  goods  just  don't  seem 
to  move;  just  seem  to  sit  on  the  shelves,  like/  You  can 
tell  by  his  eye  what's  the  matter.  After  you  fix  a  special 
commission  to  him  personally,  he  says:  'Right  you  are! 
Well,  I  fancy  it  will  be  O.  K.  now.  Good  afternoon/ 
So  all  up  and  down  the  line,  palms  want  to  be  oiled  with 
5  or  10  per  cent  velvet." 

At  several  union  offices  the  same  discouragement  is 
evident  as  hi  similar  circles  hi  France.  The  membership 
of  the  miners'  union  has  fallen  off  immensely.  On  the 
street  the  same  kind  of  workmen  who  last  year  talked 
of  the  power  of  the  Triple  Alliance  of  miners,  transport 
and  railway  men  as  more  powerful  than  the  government, 
now  calls  it,  with  a  snort  of  disdain,  "the  Cripple  Al- 
liance." Of  that  group,  some  of  the  leaders  retaliate 
by  blaming  the  most  revolutionary  of  their  adherents 
for  pushing  things  so  hard  that  they  brought  down  public 
opinion  upon  the  whole  effort  of  the  miners.  Personally, 
I  still  believe  that  the  decision  obtained  in  the  form  of 
" standard  wage,  standard  profit  and  profit  sharing," 
would  have  been  considered  a  gain  for  the  workers  if 
industrial  conditions  at  the  tune,  or  since,  had  been  any- 
thing like  normal. 

"It's  not  strange  the  coal  men  lost,"  so  an  important 
member  of  the  steelmen's  union  expressed  himself .  "  Too 
many  of  them — 100,000  too  many,  you  might  say — were 
out  of  work  before  it  started.  Before  it  was  finished, 
90  per  cent  of  our  own  members  were  on  our  union  funds 
— no  coal,  no  steel,  you  understand?  We  got  down  to 


READJUSTMENT  IN  ENGLAND  241 

our  last  penny — as  the  worker  says,  'Yer  cawn't  eat  yer 
cike  (cake)  and  'ave  yer  ha'penny,  too.'  .  .  .  The  in- 
dustrial revolution,  if  it  ever  comes  here — which  I  doubt 
— will  break  out  there  in  South  Wales  in  such  places  as 
you  visited — unless  it  breaks  out  earlier  hi  Glasgow. 
For  ourselves,  our  sliding  scale  of  wages — up  or  down, 
you  know,  with  the  selling  price  of  our  product — has 
for  years  avoided  bad  feeling  in  steel.  Now  that  work  is 
a  little  slack  we  are  trying  to  push  our  classes  hi  various 
technical  lines  for  our  members.  In  fact,  at  an  early 
conference  we're  trying  to  persuade  the  whole  trade-union 
movement  to  adopt  this  same  programme  everywhere. 

"One  reason  for  the  success  of  our  union  is  that  its 
permanent  officials  do  not  come  up  for  re-election  every 
three  years,  as  do  most  of  the  officials  of  most  British 
unions.  On  the  other  hand,  they  can  be  let  out  by  our 
executive  council  on  three  months'  notice  at  any  time. 
That  three-year — or  periodic — re-election  is  the  curse 
of  British  unionism.  It  makes,  you  see,  every  official 
into  a  trimmer.  Every  three  years  and  all  in  between, 
any  wild-eyed  member  can  ask  his  union  officers  to  go 
and  get  the  moon  for  him  and  his  pals,  and  then  shake 
his  finger  hi  their  faces  and  say:  'Just  you  come  back  to 
us  without  it  and  then  see  what  happens  to  you  and  your 
jobs!'  Why,  the  whole  force  of  unionism  from  Land's 
End  to  the  Orkneys  would  be  summoned  instantly  if 
the  employers  tried  to  insert  a  clause  like  that  for  putting 
their  workers  on  that  kind  of  a  carpet  every  so  often. 

"Eight-hour  day?  Everybody  knows  it's  a  huge  suc- 
cess. Where  it  hasn't  worked  out,  committees  of  the 
men  themselves  have  asked  for  a  chance  to  look  things 


242    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

over  and  try  to  find  out  why.  In  one  place  the  committee 
found  nineteen  men  holding  their  jobs  on  pull  and  favorit- 
ism— nineteen  '  umbrella  men/  we  call  them.  You  know 
yourself  that  even  a  half  dozen,  if  they're  paid  by  results, 
will  raise  the  very  devil  about  a  seventh  being  'set  on' 
unless  he  can  increase  their  output." 

Later  a  representative  employer  agreed  that  the  eight- 
hour  day  would  be  the  last  thing  the  steel  operators  would 
now  expect  to  touch,  even  though  the  low  German  mark 
has  made  it  necessary  for  the  British  steel-makers  to  pare 
down  their  costs  to  a  minimum. 

The  mark,  incidentally,  has  now  touched  bottom  at 
one-third  of  a  cent !  It  is  inconceivable  that  wages  will 
be  raised  proportionately.  That  may  mean  more  foreign 
business,  perhaps,  for  Germany,  but  also  more  suffering 
and  uncertainty  for  the  worker  and  especially  the  "  middle 
classes,"  and  not  only  there  but  hi  France  and  elsewhere. 

Extraordinary  efforts  are  going  forward  here  toward 
getting  the  unemployed  into  the  radical  groups — with, 
according  to  careful  observers,  disconcertingly  large  re- 
sults. One  observer  reports  12,000  starving  out  of  30,000 
jobless  tin-miners  in  Cornwall.  The  textile  country  up 
around  Lancashire  is  said  to  be  badly  scared  at  the  com- 
petition of  the  new  Indian  cotton  industry.  The  pos- 
sibility of  shipping  some  millions  of  citizens  out  of  the 
country  is  receiving  surprisingly  serious  attention  from 
the  public,  though  the  government  is  reported  to  be  pay- 
ing slight  attention  to  a  reputed  offer  from  Australia  to 
take  a  million  British  immigrants  during  the  next  two 
years.  Such  things  make  an  uncomfortable  reminder  of 
the  pessimism  of  a  certain  prominent  American  financier 


READJUSTMENT  IN  ENGLAND  243 

who,  a  few  weeks  ago  in  Geneva,  expressed  to  me  his 
belief  that  England  can  never  again  obtain  her  old  in- 
dustrial pre-eminence.  Something  like  that  has  already 
been  predicted  by  an  Oxford  economist  and  other  experts 
who  believe  that  in  tune  the  colonies  will  themselves  at 
home  fabricate  the  raw  materials  now  sent  to  the  island's 
factories,  but  their  predictions  allow  considerably  longer 
time  than  does  the  American's.  Presumably,  also,  they 
make  larger  allowance  for  the  Briton's  amazing  ability 
to  adjust  himself  successfully  to  changed  conditions — his 
reduction  of  " muddling  through"  to  something  like  a 
science ! 

This  " science"  is,  presumably,  responsible  for  the 
signs  of  the  return  to  pre-war  conditions  in  many  lines. 
The  railways  come  back  to  private  operation  this  week. 
The  iron  and  steel  business  shows  real  improvement. 
The  exclusive  restaurants  are  reported  now  to  be  turn- 
ing back  all  not  properly  attired  in  dress  suit,  white  vest, 
"'n'  everything."  According  to  a  fellow  passenger — a 
member  of  the  civil  service — the  damages  caused  by  the 
British  hi  France  at  such  places  as  Douai  have  all  been 
inspected,  adjudicated  and  settled  to  the  tune  of  50,- 
000,000  pound  sterling  I—besides,  of  course,  the  75,000,- 
000  reported  as  the  cost  of  repatriating  the  Belgian 
refugees.  Incidentally  he  says  the  next  war  will  not 
prove  so  costly  in  bicycles,  now  that  the  governments 
are  requiring  their  license  and  registration.  In  every 
way  the  government's  attitude  toward  matters  financial 
here  appears  immensely  better  than  that  of  any  Con- 
tinental power.  Surely,  that  is  a  good  symptom. 

Another  evidence  of  this  astonishing  British  ability  to 


244    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

meet  changing  circumstances  is  in  the  new  relationship 
established  since  the  war  between  the  mother  country 
and  her  colonies.  According  to  it,  all  parts  of  the  Empire 
now  share  in  the  responsibility  for  declaring  war  and  in 
general  enjoy  a  closer  connection  than  ever  before.  The 
French  call  it  "The  United  States  of  Great  Britain." 
Here  its  new  name  is  "The  Commonwealth  of  Nations 
known  as  the  British  Empire."  I  believe  time  will  show 
it  the  most  important  change  in  world  institutions  since 
1918. 

There  is  no  question  but  that  one  great  cause — or  per- 
haps only  a  symptom — of  this  genius  for  modification 
and  adjustment  is  the  English  newspaper.  It  has  been 
a  perfect  feast  after  France  and  Germany  to  devour  here 
each  day,  especially  Sunday,  great  editions  loaded  down 
with  detailed  news  stories  from  not  only  Britain  but  also 
the  Continent,  America,  Australia,  the  Orient,  and  the 
Islands  of  the  Sea.  With  so  much  information  about 
their  customers  everywhere,  added  to  the  extraordinarily 
low  overhead  permitted  by  the  age  of  so  many  of  its  manu- 
facturing establishments,  it  is  no  wonder  this  people  is, 
normally,  so  able  somehow  to  keep  selling  its  goods  in 
every  corner  of  the  world. 

Unhappily,  the  week  has  brought  one  great  disappoint- 
ment. With  all  my  heart  I  have  been  nursing  the  hope 
that  stolid  old  England  would  find  reason  for  distrusting, 
yes,  for  largely  discounting,  France's  fear  of  Germany— 
and  so  prove  wrong  my  own  failure  to  discount  it.  This 
hope  was  dashed  the  very  first  day  here.  The  Times  in 
a  long  editorial  stated  its  belief  that  serious  attention 
must  be  given  to  recent  disclosures  of  certain  expert  ob- 


READJUSTMENT  IN  ENGLAND  245 

servers  as  to  the  still  belligerent  mind  and  view-point  of 
Germany,  as  evidenced  in  the  retention  of  large  supplies 
of  arms,  etc.,  etc.  The  Times  is  perhaps  to  be  taken  less 
seriously  than  before  its  owner  was  so  anxious  to  make 
trouble  for  the  ruling  party.  The  disclosures  also,  prob- 
ably, do  not  properly  distinguish  between  the  republican 
government  and  the  military  reactionaries.  But  all  the 
same,  the  prospects  for  plentiful  jobs  and  general  happi- 
ness would  be  much  better  if  such  disclosures,  whether 
fully  true  or  not,  were  completely  impossible. 

And  now  for  the  gang-plank  one  end  of  which  rests 
upon  a  certain  porch  in  Cleveland,  U.  S.  A. — there  to 
discover,  if  possible,  what  it  all  means ! 

P.  S. — "The  workers  in  the  building  trades/ '  so  runs  a 
Paris  head-line,  "  throughout  the  vicinity  of  Paris  vote 
with  lifted  hands  for  a  general  strike." 


PART  II 
CONCLUSIONS 


CHAPTER  XVII 

HORNY  HANDS 

Cleveland,  July,  1922. 

ONE  thing  is  evident.  The  laborer  hi  western  Europe 
— whether  on  the  Continent  or  in  England — is  a  hard 
worker.  He  lives  in  the  land  of  horny  hands  as  com- 
pared with  America.  He  does  not  wear  canvas  or  other 
gloves  as  does  his  fellow  across  the  sea,  but  the  denim 
of  working  clothes  is  much  more  evident  upon  his  streets. 
He  expects  to  grow  more  blisters  and  give  with  simple 
tools  more  sweat  and  " elbow  grease"  to  his  work  than 
does  his  friend  in  America — and  to  get  less  for  it.  His 
standard  of  living  is  certainly  below  that  of  his  "Yankee" 
fellow  worker.  His  ability  to  earn  and  enjoy  the  mini- 
mum pleasures  and  satisfactions  of  life  is  certainly  less. 

On  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  the  worker  is  to-day  in 
the  clutch  of  the  high  cost  of  living.  On  both  sides,  also, 
he  is  held  in  the  grip  of  a  falling  labor  market  that  pre- 
vents his  making  any  effective  protest — indeed  it  has 
everywhere  prevented  the  success  of  any  of  the  larger 
strikes.  At  all  times,  too,  the  European  worker  has  evi- 
dently learned  to  accept  and  be  fairly  comfortable  with 
a  smaller  share  of  the  possessions  and  pleasures  to  which 
the  American  worker  is  accustomed.  In  France  the 
worker  does  stand  a  fairly  good  chance  of  possessing  his 
home;  hi  England,  a  fairly  minute  one;  but,  owned  or 
unowned,  these  homes  hardly  compare  in  comfort  with 
those  of  the  corresponding  citizen  here  in  the  States. 

249 


250    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

The  craftsman  who  parks  his  flivver  outside  the  Toledo 
or  Bridgeport  factory  considers  himself  hardly  any  luckier, 
as  compared  with  his  neighbor,  than  does  the  artisan 
who  takes  off  his  bicycle  clips  as  he  enters  the  "Usine," 
in  Douai  or  Longwy:  France,  Germany,  Belgium,  and 
Britain  possess  fewer  automobiles  than  the  State  of  New 
York.  The  enjoyment  of  a  telephone  is  for  the  European 
worker  unthinkable,  and  even  the  talking-machine  is 
something  of  a  rarity.  The  attitude  toward  meat  has 
been  indicated.  Without  attempting  anything  like  a 
careful  study  of  figures,  it  would  seem  that  the  labor 
leader  of  Glasgow  comes  fairly  close  to  the  situation  for 
western  Europe  as  well  as  Britain  in  his  statement: 

"The  American  worker  certainly  enjoys  a  standard  of 
living  not  less  than  50  per  cent  above  that  of  our  workers 
here:  his  wage  scale  is  not  less  than  75  per  cent  higher." 

And,  on  the  whole,  the  British  worker  of  the  upper 
half  certainly  lives  better  than  the  corresponding  Belgian 
and  German,  and  probably  better  than  the  corresponding 
French  native-born  worker. 

Without  any  doubt  the  status  enjoyed  and  the  figure 
cut  by  the  American  worker  as  an  integral  part  of  the 
community  is  higher  and  greater  than  in  Europe.  Also, 
because  of  the  absence  of  anything  like  Europe's  lines  of 
class,  immensely  more  hopeful.  One  sign  of  all  this  is 
the  surprisingly  slight  difference  in  the  wage  of  the  skilled 
laborers  of  Europe  as  compared  with  semiskilled  and  un- 
skilled workers.  With  us  these  differences  are  so  great, 
not  only  in  wages  but  in  dignity  and  responsibility,  that 
there  is  undoubtedly  a  greater  distance  between  our  skilled 
men  and  our  unskilled,  foreign-born  laborers  than  between 


HORNY  HANDS  251 

those  same  skilled  workers  and  the  superintendents  and 
other  representatives  of  capital.  This  simply  means 
that  the  whole  body  of  hand  workers  abroad  is  restricted 
into  a  more  nearly  uniform  and  certainly  more  definitely 
characterized  group  than  here,  where  at  the  top  our 
worker  group  shades  off  almost  imperceptibly  into  the 
administrative  body.  That  restricted  compactness  of  the 
workers  tends  in  turn  to  persuade  the  rest  of  the  citizenry 
in  Europe  to  the  comfortable  assumption  that,  in  the 
nature  of  the  case,  the  life  of  the  "working  classes"  can- 
not be  expected  to  give  any  real  satisfaction. 

Yes,  as  a  whole — and  it  is  necessary  always  to  remem- 
ber how  dangerous  it  is  to  generalize  regarding  such  huge 
and  such  varied  groups  as  comprise  the  workers  of  any 
country — the  wage-earners  of  Europe  expect  to  give  more 
muscle  in  a  day  and  get  less  bread  and  betterment  for  it 
than  their  colleagues  hi  America.  That  does  not  mean, 
however,  that  they  accomplish  more.  On  the  contrary, 
their  individual  productiveness  is  less — undoubtedly 
much  less.  That  is  true  partly  because  their  work  has 
been  given  less  thought  by  their  supervisors  for  the  sav- 
ing of  time  and  effort  than  here;  partly,  also,  because 
the  long  history  of  hand-work  has  there  built  up  a  very 
deep-rooted  sense  of  craftsmanship — of  job  mystery  and 
"know  how."  This  has  taken  the  property  of  the  job  so 
seriously  as  to  form  considerable  of  a  barrier  to  the  in- 
troduction of  either  labor-saving  methods  or  labor-sav- 
ing— and  mystery-destroying,  perhaps  also  job-destroy- 
ing— tools.  This  sense  of  job  ownership  as  well  as  skill 
ownership,  as  inherited  and  passed  on  to  succeeding  gen- 
erations, has  been  the  compelling  force  behind  the  more 


252    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

or  less  general  pressure  of  the  unions  for  the  saving  of 
jobs,  even  at  the  cost  of  individual  and  national  produc- 
tiveness. It  is  an  error  to  see  the  unions  only  as  a  cause 
and  not  as  an  effect. 

But  the  worker  is  not  the  only  one  in  Europe  who  finds 
it  necessary  to  live  under  a  narrow  sheet  as  compared 
with  America.  The  same  holds  true  for  the  employer 
group  as  well.  As  a  class  he  has  nothing  like  the  same 
opportunity  to  earn  a  wide  margin  of  profit  in  the  coun- 
tries visited  as  here  in  the  States. 

When  all  is  said  and  done,  every  country,  together 
with  all  its  citizens,  whether  employer  or  employee,  has 
to  be  content  in  the  long  run  to  divide  up  the  total  value 
produced  from  either  the  national  material  resources  or 
from  the  services  performed  in  the  fabrication  or  dis- 
position of  the  resources  of  other  countries.  It  is  evident 
that  the  cause  of  the  comparative  margin  of  practically 
all  groups  of  Continental  society  is  represented  by  some- 
thing more  fundamental  than  the  shortcomings  of  any 
or  all  classes:  it  is  rather  the  shortcomings  typified  by 
those  irregular  and  deep-down  eighteen-inch  and  three- 
foot  coal  seams  as  described.  Contrast  these — whether 
in  France,  Belgium,  or  Germany — with,  for  instance, 
those  of  West  Virginia.  There  recently  a  friend  pointed 
from  a  great  mountainside  off  toward  the  North: 

"From  here  clear  down  to  the  Ohio  River,  seventy- 
five  miles,  you  will  find  a  solid  seam  of  coal  of  excellent 
quality  and  with  few  admixtures  of  rock  or  other  matter, 
lying  with  magnificent  regularity,  seldom  less  than  four 
feet  in  thickness  or  more  than  nine!" 

Much  the  same  could  be  said  for  our  other  natural — 


HORNY  HANDS  253 

and  job-giving — resources.  It  is  the  greatest  and  most 
far-reaching  difference  between  the  two  continents  and 
the  peoples  they  support. 

The  skimpiness  of  Mother  Nature  in  Europe  as  com- 
pared with  her  bounteousness  to  us,  this,  together  with 
the  longer  use  of  her  gifts  there  than  here,  is  the  funda- 
mental cause  of  that  curtailment  of  opportunity  which 
affects  the  whole  people.  The  fixity  of  that  grip  upon 
the  job  and  the  division  of  the  whole  population  into 
definite  groups  according  to  the  nature  and  standing  of 
the  job  gripped,  these  are  the  "protective  behavior" 
whereby  the  lessened  opportunity  is  made  to  contribute 
the  required  maximum  of  security.  Any  lessening  of  the 
first  of  these  always  automatically  produces  pressure  for 
the  increase  of  the  second.  Similarly,  too,  the  accumu- 
lated demonstration  of  the  unfeasibility  of  men's  enjoy- 
ing opportunity  as  a  result  of  their  individual  effort,  al- 
ways persuades  them  to  use  the  protection  of  group  or 
class  team-work.  And  in  that  strategy,  as  hi  the  case  of 
Germany,  dependable  defense  may  require  initial  offense. 
In  Europe  this  defensive  team-work  has  hi  some  ways 
been  adopted  almost  as  much  by  the  managers  as 
by  the  craftsmen:  it  is  almost  as  serious  for  the  em- 
ployer to  go  beyond  the  practice  of  his  fellows  in.  say, 
the  expression  of  interest  in  his  workers  as  for  an  em- 
ployee to  show  an  unseemly  loyalty  to  his  capitalist  em- 
ployer, i 

Britain,  Germany,  and  Belgium  have  done  more  than 
France  to  make  up  for  the  deficiency  of  native  materials 
by  the  development  of  service  values.  Nevertheless  it  is, 
I  believe,  the  fault  of  Mother  Nature  rather  than  human 


254    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

nature  or  human  institutions  that  industrial  Europe  shows 
everywhere  a  much  wider  gap  between  the  director  and 
the  directed  than  does  industrial  America.  Without 
doubt,  also,  that  gulf  is  not  only  wider  but  enormously 
more  permanent  and  impassable. 

This,  in  turn,  is  responsible  for  the  fact  that  an  ob- 
server encounters  in  a  week  more  radicals — more  dis- 
believers in  the  present  system  of  society — among  the 
workers  of  Europe  than  in  a  month  here — assuming,  of 
course,  that  he  moves  among  comparable  groups  in  both 
countries. 

Doubtless,  our  own  wage-earners  would  be  immensely 
more  unhappy  under  the  same  conditions  of  work  and 
life  than  are  their  European  brothers,  for  these  last,  as 
we  have  seen,  have  for  generations  inherited  a  surprising 
ability  to  make  the  most  of  a  modicum.  Much  of  the 
expression  of  the  protest  encountered  is  caused,  there- 
fore, I  believe,  not  so  much  by  the  sur.oundings  them- 
selves as  by  the  sense  of  the  width  of  the  gap  which  must 
be  bridged  before  those  protests  are  to  obtain  result. 
In  the  land  of  the  narrow  sheet  and  the  wide  gap,  that 
is,  the  protestant  must  pound  the  table  and  raise  his 
voice  if  his  desires  are  to  carry  across  to  the  ear  of  either 
the  public  or  the  capitalist.  That  failing,  he  is  forced  to 
contrive  ways  of  registering  his  unhappiness  in  more 
extreme  efforts — or  perhaps  in  the  absence  of  effort  rep- 
resented by  sabotage,  the  "on-the-job  strike."  Nat- 
urally, enough,  also,  the  constant  barrier  of  the  gulf  tends 
to  drive  the  resultless  protestant  on  to  the  platform  offered 
by  politics.  Similarly,  too,  it  tends  to  recommend  to  him 
some  form  of  society  which  makes  a  point  of  abhorring 
exactly  such  sound-proof  gulfs  and  vacuums. 


HORNY  HANDS  255 

The  comparative  narrowness  of  the  gulf  here  with  us 
and  the  comparative  feasibility  of  its  bridging,  this  is 
undoubtedly  the  reason  why,  as  a  group,  the  leaders  of 
our  American  labor  movement  have  not  adopted  even 
Socialism — to  say  nothing  of  Communism — to  anything 
like  the  extent  of  their  colleagues  across  the  sea.  The 
strange  thing  is  that  the  same  Sam  Gompers  who,  with 
his  maximum  demand  for  collective  bargaining,  is  con- 
sidered by  European  leaders  as  a  hopeless  standpatter, 
is  here  felt  by  many  employers  to  be  a  radical  of  the 
deepest  dye.  The  real  difference  is  that  Mr.  Gompers 
doesn't  need  to  make  so  much  fuss  nor  to  be  so  extreme, 
simply  because  he  and  his  followers  are  already,  before 
they  start  to  talk,  so  much  closer  to  the  employers  with 
whom  they  wish  to  negotiate.  Though  the  American, 
like  the  French  and  British,  leaders  undoubtedly  have 
their  times  of  depression,  nevertheless,  they  are  con- 
vinced that  by  their  comparatively  moderate  methods 
they  have  not  only  put  their  followers  into  a  better  posi- 
tion here  than  there,  but  also  moved  them  a  greater  dis- 
tance from  the  starting-point.  They  have  simply  adapted 
their  method  to  that  enormous  difference  in  the  class 
lines  and  class  gulfs.  It  was  John  Mitchell  of  the  miners 
who  said  that  no  labor  movement  can  be  truly  aggressive 
until  it  operates  as  the  cutting  edge  of  a  distinct  and  more 
or  less  fixed  working  class.  In  the  absence  of  that  fixed 
and  therefore  hopeless,  alignment,  the  individual  may 
at  any  moment  cast  off  his  affiliation  with  his  class  in 
the  belief  that  he  can  "make  the  grade"  more  success- 
fully alone.  Under  such  circumstances,  of  course,  perfect 
class  discipline  is  impossible. 

This  difference  in  social  stratification  due,  at  bottom, 


256    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

mainly  to  the  difference  of  geological  layers,  thus  comes 
to  make  it  fruitless  to  discuss  the  truth  or  falsity  of  the 
statement,  frequently  encountered,  that  "the  European 
labor  movement  in  general,  and  the  British  hi  particular, 
is  thirty  years  ahead  of  the  American." 

The  difference  is  immensely  greater  than  that  of  either 
method  or  degree.  It  is  the  difference  between  the  Land 
of  Holding  On  and  the  Land  of  Getting  On.  It  is  for  the 
American  public  to  say  by  its  attitude  toward  the  trea- 
sures of  opportunity  still  locked  up  in  its  unused  raw 
resources  how  soon  we  are  to  see  an  equally  hopeless 
widening  and  broadening  of  class  cleavages  in  the  social 
structure  we  are  rearing  upon  the  foundation  given  us 
by  nature.  Also,  for  the  American  employer  to  determine 
by  his  attitude  toward  both  his  customers  and  his  asso- 
ciated workers  how  soon  these  last  must  rely,  not  upon 
reason  and  right,  but  upon  pounding  the  drum  or  build- 
ing the  barricade  of  class  warfare,  as  the  only  means  of 
satisfying  the  self-respect  of  American  citizens.  By  too 
easy  an  assumption  of  the  permanence  of  either  our  ma- 
terial goods  or  of  the  efficiency  and  satisfactoriness  of 
our  productive  and  distributive  service,  we  may  all  be- 
come the  victims  of  that  pressure  which  is  inseparable 
from  a  lessened  national  unit  of  value  delivered.  With 
that  is  sure  to  come  a  tightening  of  all  the  screws  of 
self-protection — class  solidarity,  organized  opposition  to 
machinery  and  other  restrictions  of  output,  governmental 
standardization  of  procedure — every  form  of  abandonment 
of  the  risks  of  opportunity  and  initiative  for  the  certain- 
ties of  security.  All  these  appear  to  protect  the  individual 
but  in  actuality  tend  to  lessen  the  basic  unit  of  value  pro- 


HORNY  HANDS  257 

duced.  This  shortly  increases  the  pressure  and  so  brings 
another  turn  of  the  screws — for  another  round  of  the 
vicious  circle. 

At  the  present  moment,  whether  for  better  or  for  worse, 
the  American  employer  enjoys  a  much  larger  freedom 
from  either  governmental  or  union  restriction  than  his 
friends  abroad.  That  represents  our  public's  present 
conviction  that  our  situation  entitles  him  to  a  larger  de- 
gree of  responsibility.  But  that  conviction  rests  upon 
continued  demonstration  of  results.  It  is  threatened  to- 
day most  of  all  by  the  absentee  management  of  the  re- 
mote corporation  head  and  by  the  folly  of  the  near-by 
executive  who,  in  the  memory  of  twenty  years  ago,  still 
continues  to  boast  of  his  calling  his  workers  "  all  by  their 
first  name,"  but  fails  completely  to  organize  his  relations 
with  his  present  enlarged  personnel  on  the  basis  of  any- 
thing like  the  unfailing  sincerity  and  sensitiveness  which 
may  for  years  have  characterized  his  relations  with  his 
customers. 

That  threat  is  opposed  by  two  constructive  tendencies, 
among  others.  One  of  these  is  the  lately  developed  col- 
lege or  graduate  school  of  business  for  training  the 
next  generation  of  industrial  captains  in  the  principles 
and  the  technic,  as  well  as  the  sentiment,  of  right  rela- 
tions with  men.  Europe  has  nothing  quite  like  these 
courses,  but  our  next  step  is  to  follow  the  example  of 
France  in  adding  to  our  training  in  engineering  the  French 
emphasis  upon  the  human  factor  in  production. 

The  other  is  the  awakened  interest  of  our  public  to 
the  part  which  the  prosperity  of  the  workers  plays  in  the 
prosperity  of  the  whole  people.  This  active  interest  is 


258    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

to-day  puzzled  by  the  way  such  matters  as  coal  and  trans- 
portation have  suddenly  cast  off  their  former  local  or 
regional  dimensions  and  assumed  the  startling  propor- 
tions and  complexities  of  national  problems  in  which 
each  region  must  have  consideration  as  a  part  of  a  closely 
related  whole.  It  will  require  serious  effort  for  the  opinion 
of  an  easy-going  and  highly  individualistic  public  to  mas- 
ter these  new  proportions  and  complexities,  just  as  these 
have  puzzled  the  most  up-to-date  corporation  officials 
and  labor  leaders.  But  whether  the  public  is  altogether 
the  master  of  both  the  facts  and  the  sentiments  of  the 
new  nation-wide  type  of  dispute  or  not,  it  nevertheless 
remains  the  arbiter;  for  right  or  wrong,  the  public  makes 
the  final  decision.  The  same  public  opinion,  also,  de- 
cides from  day  to  day  whether  the  employer  can  be  trusted 
to  continue  hi  his  present  comparative  freedom  or  whether 
he  must  be  given  fresh  and  unmistakable  reminders  to 
keep  open  the  roads  to  individual  Opportunity  in  the 
Land  of  Getting  On  while  making  its  harbors  of  Security 
somewhat  more  like  those  in  the  Land  of  Holding  On. 
In  case  these  reminders  are  not  heeded,  the  result  is  cer- 
tain to  bring  about  the  same  vicious  coil  of  self -protection 
here  as  there — and  to  the  hurt  not  only  of  the  worker 
but  of  every  other  individual  and  group  beneath  our 


According  to  the  thesis  of  our  preface,  any  factor  which 
markedly  affects  a  people's  working  conditions  is  bound 
to  have  highly  significant  repercussions  upon  its  condi- 
tions of  living  and  hence  of  its  thinking  and  feeling. 

Perhaps,  accordingly,  if  we  discuss  some  of  these  ef- 
fects, we  may  find  an  explanation  for  those  other  tokens 


HORNY  HANDS  259 

of  the  present  mind  of  Europe  and  her  workers  which 
are  seen  with  such  sad  frequency  alongside  the  horny 
hands  and  the  denim  of  hard  work — I  mean  the  hampered 
elbows  of  limitation  and  the  crape  of  mourning. 


CHAPTER  XVHI 
HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

JUST  as  the  Bedouin  of  the  North  African  desert  is 
driven  to  a  fatalistic  philosophy  by  constantly  noting 
the  demonstrated  omnipotence  of  his  natural  surround- 
ings, so  the  long-established  acceptance  of  material 
meagreness  persuades  a  person  or  a  people  to  the  general 
use  of  the  grooves  which  promise  a  maximum  of  protec- 
tion and  certainty.  Both  expansion  and  self-preservation 
are  likely  thus  to  appear  linked  up  with  the  known  cer- 
tainties of  long  experience — that  is,  with  the  past. 

This  or  something  much  like  it  must  be  the  reason  for 
the  hold  which  the  past  has  upon  Europe — and  also  for 
our  American  inability  to  understand  its  strength.  At 
any  rate,  it  is  certainly  the  platform  which  gives  in  the 
life  of  present-day  France  such  prominence  to  those  two 
characteristic  phrases: 

"C'est  1'habitude"  and  "£a  m'est  egal!" 

"Habit  and  custom,  m'sieu',"  plus  a  certain  amount 
of  stoical  indifference,  is  sure  to  be  called  upon  to  serve 
as  a  pair  of  padded  gloves  for  saving  to  the  utmost  those 
horny  hands  from  further  hurt  in  dealing  with  the  sharp 
edges  of  a  restrictive  economic  environment. 

The  social  and  moral  life  of  France  is  thus  the  result, 
not  so  much  of  the  passage  of  an  extraordinary  number 
of  generations  in  the  same  physical  environment  with  a 
surprisingly  small  admixture  of  foreign  blood  as  of  gener- 

260 


HAMPERED  ELBOWS  261 

ations  in  the  use  of  a  geological  equipment  which  has 
virtually  required  that,  in  self-defense,  thrift  be  exalted 
to  the  status  of  a  national  virtue. 

Unluckily  for  France,  the  loss  of  the  iron  ore  of  Alsace- 
Lorraine  came  just  at  the  beginning  of  the  expansion  of 
our  modern  iron  age.  Added  to  that  economic  loss  came 
the  spiritual  blow  of  disgraceful  military  defeat.  As  with 
individuals,  so  with  nations.  Unceasingly  the  main- 
spring desire  to  enjoy  one's  self-respect  and  the  approval 
of  some  group  causes  the  testing  of  this  or  that  sector 
of  its  Western  Front  in  the  effort  finally  to  discover  the 
right  spot  for  making  the  break-through  into  the  longed 
for  satisfaction  and  recognition.  So  at  the  moment  when 
France  might  logically  have  developed  the  commercial 
tendencies  common  to  the  new  age,  she  was  divested  of 
the  material  tools  essential  to  achievement  in  the  sector 
of  practical,  industrial  realism;  as  a  result  she  inevitably, 
though  perhaps  unconsciously,  left  at  that  point  of  the 
line  a  minimum  of  her  interest  while  she  directed  the  full 
reserves  of  her  aspirations  against  some  sector  of  lesser 
opposition  and  restriction.  She  continued,  accordingly, 
to  seek — and  to  find — her  satisfaction  in  the  field  of 
quality  rather  than  quantity,  of  taste  and  the  aesthetic 
rather  than  the  crude,  in  the  intellectual  and  the  emo- 
tional rather  than  the  actual  and  material.  In  all  this 
the  men  of  the  "  generation  of  defeat  "  supplied  with  their 
philosophies  a  leadership  which  gave  to  the  national 
choice  a  spiritual  justification  and  flavor.  France  found 
happiness  in  remaining  merely  agricultural  and  careful  in 
an  age  of  industrial  realism  and  expansion.  Her  fates 
thus  forced  the  continued  choice  of  a  policy  of  holding 


262    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

on  rather  than  getting  on.  For  always  the  lessening  of 
the  chance  of  getting  increases  the  necessity  o/  holding: 
"Will  you  hold  fast  that  which  I  give  thee?"  It  de- 
pends on  how  easy  it  is  to  get  something  else. 

The  moment,  also,  that  this  tendency  to  hold  rather 
than  to  get  begins  to  make  society  fixed  and  static, 
the  importance  of  social  position  increases.  As  noted 
in  Belgium,  the  son  fears  to  cast  himself  off  from  his 
father's  financial  protection  and  so  accepts  his  family's 
obligations  for  the  sake  both  of  his  own  and  his  sister's 
social  standing.  Thus,  the  polite  thing  in  Belgium  and 
France  is  always  to  address  a  young  woman  of  marriage- 
able age  as  "Madame"  instead  of  "Miss"  as  with  us — 
to  give  her,  as  it  were,  the  benefit  of  the  social  doubt 
by  virtue  of  which  unmarried  women  of  twenty-five  are 
in  France  considered  "old  maids." 

Follows  naturally  enough  on  all  this  the  French  atti- 
tude toward  the  advertiser  in  particular  and  the  business 
man  in  general.  For  him  to  go  too  far  in  accepting  the 
risks  always  connected  with  the  employment  of  both 
brains  and  capital — connected  to  an  extent,  incidentally, 
seldom  appreciated  by  the  hand  worker — is  to  fly 
in  the  face  of  the  national — the  nationally  defensive — 
insistence  upon  "holding  fast."  His  good  citizenship  is 
fairly  questionable  for  the  reason  that  his  future  is  so 
much  so.  On  the  other  hand,  the  holder  of  a  local  or 
Federal  office — at  one-fifth  the  commercial  risk-taker's 
earnings — his  present  earnings,  of  course — has  a  social 
prestige  which  nothing  can  break.  The  reason  is  that 
nothing  short  of  scandal  can  cause  him  to  "let  go." 

So  the  institution  of  marriage — up  to  1918,  at  least — 


HAMPERED  ELBOWS  263 

has  had  to  throw  up  its  hands  and  surrender  before  the 
insistent  demands  for  social  and  economic  security  as 
made  upon  it  by  the  public  opinion  of  a  people  long  organ- 
ized on  a  narrow-margined  economy.  Under  the  circum- 
stances, wife  and  husband  cannot  afford  to  risk  their 
futures  simply  for  the  privilege  of  being  in  love  with  each 
other.  If  one  of  them  has  social  position  and  the  other 
has  money,  that  is  enough.  This  is  the  cause  of  the  "ma- 
riage  a  quatre."  It  leaves  both  husband  and  wife  free — 
with  the  help  of  two  outside  friends  and  a  certain  amount 
of  discretion — to  maintain  a  secure  and  respectable  do- 
mestic establishment,  and  raise  the  children  without 
being  too  much  bored  with  each  other.  Under  such  cir- 
cumstances the  position  of  the  husband  is  decidedly  dif- 
ferent from  that,  say,  of  a  young  American  business  man. 
As  a  functionary  with  a  life-hold  on  his  highly  honorable 
position,  and  married  to  a  comfortable  income,  he  need 
expend  on  his  work  comparatively  little  of  the  energy 
which  the  American  would  put  into  developing  the  full 
possibilities  of  his  business.  Where  the  first  is  able  to 
find  little  chance  for  the  satisfaction  of  overcoming  ob- 
stacles and  solving  problems,  the  other  sees  the  oppor- 
tunity that  challenges  most  of  his  physical,  mental,  and 
spiritual  capacities.  The  one's  future  is  already  made; 
the  other's  waits  upon  his  effort.  The  one  will,  therefore, 
be  interested  in  finding  some  new  and  challenging  sector 
in  which  to  obtain  the  satisfactions  of  fresh  victories; 
the  other  will  have  found  it.  Something  like  this  appears 
to  me  to  fit  the  matter  of  sex  into  our  picture,  and  to  ex- 
plain the  origin  of  the  art  seen  so  generally  in  French 
life — the  art  of  philandering.  It  is  a  development  in  the 


264    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

field  of  morals  out  of  that  same  national  narrowness  of 
material  resources  and  economic  opportunities.  It  is  a 
sort  of  "reverse  English"  of  that  economic  determinism 
which  was  at  one  time  felt  to  push  so  many  girls  here 
hi  America  into  prostitution. 

In  much  the  same  way  I  found  here  in  America  that 
among  the  laborers  the  narrowness  of  opportunity  for 
self-expression  and  achievement  on  the  muscle  jobs  caused 
an  increased  interest  hi  the  possibilities  for  them  as  offered 
in  the  field  of  sex  relationships.  Among  the  French  work- 
ing men,  naturally,  marriages  are  not  arranged  upon  the 
basis  of  economic  security.  But  even  there  the  problem 
of  morals  is  complicated  by  the  social  permissions  and 
approvals  which  make  entirely  commonplace  a  bit  of 
gossip  regarding  the  highest  government  officials  and 
their  mistresses. 

These  social  concomitants  of  established  economic 
conservatism  and  age  undoubtedly  help  to  explain,  also, 
the  French  attitude  toward  certain  matters  in  which  we 
see  sex  but  in  which  old  people  everywhere  see  nothing 
but  physiology.  They  serve  also  to  create  France's  most 
serious  problem — namely,  the  narrowness  of  the  margin 
between  the  births  and  deaths  of  her  population. 

But  all  this  applies  only  to  the  France  that  this  genera- 
tion has  known.  That  France  is  gone.  The  war  has 
erased  it.  In  its  place  is  the  France  that  stands  upon  an 
entirely  different  platform  of  material  equipment — the 
France  that  now  wears  the  crown  of  the  "Iron  Queen 
of  Europe" — the  France  of  hope. 

Will  these  riches  now  added  to  her  extensive  colonial 
domain  enable  her  to  become  a  first-rate  instead  of  a 


HAMPERED  ELBOWS  265 

fourth-rate  industrial  power?  Will  those  long-estab- 
lished, close-margined  habits  of  yesterday  stand  in  her 
way  or  help  her  to  fulfil  the  hopes  of  to-day  and  to-mor- 
row? Can  she  sell  all  the  products  she  is  now  equipped 
to  make  ?  Nothing  means  more  to  the  workers  of  France 
than  the  answers  to  these  questions.  On  these  answers, 
for  one  thing,  may  depend  the  length  of  time  to  be  spent 
in  France  by  the  present  thousands  of  laborers  from  the 
Algerian  and  Moroccan  colonies  and  from  Poland,  Italy, 
Spain,  and  elsewhere. 

These  queries  are  hard  to  answer,  but  it  is  worth  re- 
membering that  with  a  people  as  with  a  person  no  trait 
is  a  mere  "happen-stance."  Each  is  part  of  a  consistent 
whole.  The  backbone  that  yesterday  held  together  the 
France  the  world  has  known  is  gone.  But  as  a  result  the 
French  people  is  far  from  lazy  and  far  from  inept  in  the 
fullest  possible  utilization  of  all  its  resources,  sparse  or 
abundant.  Thanks  to  its  long  training,  it  has  demon- 
strated that  it  can  hang  on  to  a  spiritual  ideal  when  any 
nation  of  a  different  environment  might  have  given  up. 
So  no  one  who  has  seen  the  combination  of  demoralized 
actuality  and  devoted  aspiration  pictured  at  ruined  but 
reviving  Lens  can  be  anything  but  optimistic  about 
France's  ability  to  meet  her  newest  possibilities  and  fulfil 
them.  Her  centuries  of  habit  in  faithfulness  over  yester- 
day's little  now  justify  the  hope  of  her  faithfulness  over 
to-day's  much.  It  is  only  necessary  for  her  friends — or 
her  enemies — to  be  patient.  She  has  been  sorely  wounded 
and  sorely  wearied.  She  has  not  yet  recovered  from  the 
shell-shock  of  her  testing  at  the  very  centre  of  the  world's 
worst  wrenching.  The  idealists  who  went  through  the 


266    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

war  are  perhaps  spending  too  much  time  endeavoring  to 
determine  with  exactness  whether  her  wounds  are  mortal, 
chronic,  or  merely  temporary.  Meanwhile,  in  the  young 
men  born  too  late  to  see  full  service  at  the  front  there  is 
appearing  the  " generation  of  the  victory."  Instead  of 
devoting  themselves  to  cinching  the  honorable  and  per- 
manent— honorable  because  permanent — position  of  a 
Federal  functionary,  they  are  insisting  upon  going  into 
business.  That  is  causing  trouble  in  the  families,  but  it 
will  be  the  families  that  will  give  way  and  not  the  youths. 
For  it  is  they  who  have  on  their  side  all  the  thrust  of 
France's  future. 

There  is  a  real  possibility  that  these  young  men  will 
give  to  the  factory,  office,  and  the  banking-room 
exactly  that  touch  of  idealism  which  business  so  much 
needs.  It  is  something  of  this  that  we  Americans  have 
put  into  industry  and  commerce  to  an  extent  un- 
equalled by  any  other  nation.  We  have  found  that 
spirit  in  business  because  we  have  had  to  find  it  some- 
where, and  we  have  not  had  time  to  look  elsewhere. 
The  French  have  found  it  outside  of  business  because 
they  did  not  care  to  find  anything  in  business  except  what 
was  necessary  to  existence.  It  would  be  immensely  help- 
ful to  the  world's  peace  if  France's  "  generation  of  the 
victory"  could  avail  to  combine  the  practical  and  the 
ideal  in  a  new  and  higher  species  of  business  technic. 
That  might  go  far  not  only  toward  solving  the  labor  prob- 
lem, but  also  toward  preventing  a  revival  of  the  war- 
like spirit  among  the  nations — a  spirit  which  can  be 
expressed  even  during  naval  holidays  by  the  knife-point 
of  cutthroat  competition. 


HAMPERED  ELBOWS  267 

In  this,  however,  one  factor  is  always  to  be  considered. 
Its  name  is  Germany. 

The  same  years  which  saw  France  accepting  material 
contraction  and  accomplishing  spiritual  elaboration,  saw 
Germany's  " generation  of  the  victory"  utilizing  to  the 
utmost  her  expanded  natural  resources  and  her  possibili- 
ties of  both  productive  and  distributive  service.  In  the 
effort  to  keep  her  workers  from  radicalism  the  govern- 
ment offered  the  compromise  of  a  conservative  Socialism 
which  did  not  greatly  protect  the  laborer  from  the  re- 
strictions of  a  pretty  narrow  sheet.  But,  especially  in 
view  of  the  shortness  of  the  German  people's  life  as  a 
unit  in  comparison  with  the  French,  the  industrial  and 
economic  factors  appear  to  me  to  call  for  a  considerable 
admixture  of  the  political  in  order  to  explain  the  develop- 
ment which  led  to  the  great  catastrophe.  To  be  sure, 
Germany's  astounding  industrial  expansion  produced  a 
growth  hi  population  which  made  its  established  borders 
extremely  narrow.  Nevertheless,  this  might  have  been 
made  fairly  harmless  except  for  Germany's  distressing 
observation  that  the  achievement  of  her  commercial 
success  failed  for  some  reason  to  secure  from  the  other 
peoples  of  the  world  the  hoped-for  appreciation  and  recog- 
nition of  German  greatness.  We  are  most  sensitive  in 
those  areas  of  our  self-respect  where  we  most  desperately 
desire  recognition,  but  are  least  certain  of  our  right  to 
it.  Undoubtedly,  the  newness  of  the  empire  and  the 
suddenness  of  its  exploits  produced  the  same  touchiness 
hi  this  regard  as  is  still  evinced  in  the  tender  political 
sensibilities  of  the  newest  and  least  stable  South  and 
Central  American  Republics.  This  touchiness  would 


268    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

hardly  fail  to  be  increased  by  the  sight  of  France  and 
the  French  spirit  continuing  to  enjoy  the  spiritual  leader- 
ship and  homage  of  the  world  in  spite  of  military  and 
material  eclipse.  Well,  if  the  shaking  of  the  shekels  does 
not  appear  to  make  any  impression  on  the  grand  stand, 
why  not  try  the  rattling  of  the  sabre ! 

If  to-day  the  mind  of  the  sabre  rattler  were  gone  from 
Germany,  it  would  be  easy  to  discuss  the  future.  Un- 
happily, every  morning's  paper  and  every  fresh  murder 
of  a  progressive  make  it  more  certain  that  it  is  still  there. 
Luckily,  however,  other  minds  are  there,  too — some 
that  would  earn  the  world's  confidence  by  demonstrated 
worthiness,  others  that,  as  in  France  a  generation  ago, 
would  forsake  the  world  of  commerce  and  delve  deeper 
into  the  intangibilities  of  the  spirit.  Time  will  show  the 
result  of  all  these  highly  active  forces.  The  pity  is 
that  in  July  of  '22,  as  in  September  of  '21,  it  is  impos- 
sible for  any  one  to  say  with  authority  that  France — or 
Europe — has  no  justification  for  its  fear  of  the  cloud  upon 
its  eastern  horizon.  Like  all  significant  clouds  it  is  the 
size  of  a  man's  hand — and  takes  the  form  of  a  man's  fist. 
As  long  as  it  is  visible,  it  means  a  French  army — in  the 
absence  of  other  guarantees.  That  army,  I  believe  with 
all  my  heart,  does  not  at  all  represent  a  military  people. 
In  any  event,  the  taxes  for  its  support  only  give  still  an- 
other twist  to  that  noose  of  limitation  upon  the  lives  of 
its  hard-working  narrow-margined  citizens. 

Under  these  conditions  the  horny  hands  of  France — 
as  of  Belgium,  Germany,  Switzerland,  and  for  that  matter 
the  rest  of  Europe — cannot  hope  immediately  to  get  far 
away  from  those  hampered  elbows  in  the  narrow  room 
which  nature  has  provided. 


HAMPERED  ELBOWS  269 

It  is  the  meagre  equipment  of  that  room  which  in  times 
past  has  aggravated  the  pressure  everywhere  against 
those  narrow  walls.  In  the  days  before  commerce  could 
disregard  such  merely  geographical  boundaries  by  means 
of  its  ability  to  find  its  markets  and  establish  its  relations 
everywhere,  these  walls  led  men  inevitably  to  the  use 
of  the  sword.  The  crape  that  followed  the  monarch's 
military  effort  to  overcome  nature's  geographical  nar- 
rowness and  so  to  escape  from  this  or  that  valley  or  high- 
land became  thus  the  established  accompaniment  of  the 
denim  of  the  heavy  toil  required  for  overcoming  nature's 
geological  " nearness."  The  supreme  tragedy  is  that  the 
tendency  toward  the  levelling  of  geographic  and  political 
boundaries  which  modern  high-speed  and  world- wide  busi- 
ness is  exerting,  did  not  proceed  fast  enough  to  control  the 
new  tendency  toward  commercial  and  political  expansion 
which  also  resulted  from  that  same  institution  of  mod- 
ern business  and  its  world-conquering  tools  of  communi- 
cation. 

It  is  not  fanciful  to  consider  the  French  Revolution  as 
one  result  of  a  failure  to  control  and  direct  the  expansion 
of  the  business  and  political  life  of  France  which  followed 
upon  the  increase  in  the  means  of  communication  within 
the  nation.  Such  commerce  as  existed  came  to  the  point 
where  its  development  required  it  to  operate  upon  a  na- 
tional basis.  It  found  that  its  political  machinery  was 
equipped  only  to  oppose  this.  Its  new  cross-country  cur- 
rents of  relations  encountered  the  resistance  of  a  maze 
of  local  taxes,  local  prohibitions — regional  restrictions  of 
every  sort.  The  heat  caused  by  this  resistance  might 
long  have  gone  without  exploding  in  the  demand  for  a 
reformed  government  which  would  widen  the  field  of 


270    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

operations,  except  that  this  same  commercial  expansion 
brought  with  it  the  increased  means  of  communication 
and  therefore  of  a  national  public  opinion.  This  pro- 
vided for  the  first  tune  the  means  of  that  united  ex- 
pression which  is  essential  to  united  action — and  the 
revolution  was  on! 

Similarly,  it  is  not  fanciful  to  see  hi  the  Great  War 
the  result  of  the  energy  generated  by  the  resistance  of 
the  opposing  walls  of  the  various  political  cells  of  old 
Europe  against  the  flow  of  the  powerful  currents  of  the 
new  world-wide  commerce  and  of  the  new  world-wide 
public  opinion. 

If  that  is  true,  the  enormously  increased  forces  of  both 
international  trade  and  international  self-respect  are  sure 
to  increase  the  wearers  of  both  crape  and  denim  unless 
they  can  somehow  and  in  some  measure  be  controlled. 
Small  wonder  that  our  "Bolshie"  friend  in  South  Wales 
sees  so  close  a  connection  between  the  world's  conferences 
and  the  world's  barricades.  And  as  a  wearer  of  the  uni- 
versal crape  and  denim,  he  is  entitled  to  protest  that 
either  conference  or  barricade — that  organization  at  either 
the  top  or  the  bottom — must  be  tried  as  an  outlet  from 
the  meagreness  of  living  and  the  commonness  of  mourn- 
ing which  Europe  to-day  presents. 

Small  wonder,  too,  that  Europe's  workers  hate  the 
bayonets  which,  as  the  signs  and  symbols  of  Europe's 
"  elbow  complex,"  have  come  inevitably  to  dot  the  "i's" 
and  cross  the  "t's"  of  age-old  limitation.  Nor  that  with 
all  their  hearts  they  hope — though  they  are  too  tired 
fully  to  expect — that  the  forces  which  make  for  the 
horny  hands  of  their  work  and  the  hampered  elbows 


HAMPERED  ELBOWS  271 

of  their  life,  may  somehow  be  better  directed  than  here- 
tofore ! 

Can  that  be  done? 

On  the  answer  to  that  question,  surely,  depends  the 
future  of  Europe  and  of  Europe's  worker-citizens. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
THE  (DIS)UNITED  STATES  OF  EUROPE? 

TOWARD  the  answer  to  that  question,  the  war  has  con- 
tributed surprisingly. 

Besides  affording  a  demonstration  of  the  astonishing 
possibilities  of  both  international  co-operation  and  inter- 
national conflict,  and  in  addition  to  developing  instru- 
ments of  communication  far  beyond  the  level  earlier 
developed  by  business,  the  universal  call  to  arms 
demonstrated  to  the  workers  the  unreliability  of  that 
long-discussed  horizontal  cleavage  by  which  the  labor 
groups  of  the  different  nations  would  fight,  not  against 
each  other  but  only  against  the  employer  and  other 
more  fortunate  groups  similarly  united  throughout  the 
world. 

"So  well  established  did  the  theory  of  class,  instead  of 
national,  solidarity  appear  before  the  war,"  so  explained  a 
French  labor  statesman,  "that  all  estimates  of  our  mili- 
tary strength  when  completely  mobilized  included  con- 
siderable deductions  for  the  Socialists  and  others  who,  it 
was  believed,  would  make  unsafe  soldiers.  When  the 
test  came,  even  the  government  was  surprised.  It  found 
the  percentage  an  extremely  small  one — practically  neg- 
ligible. Furthermore,  it  proved  quite  unnecessary  to 
carry  out  the  long-contemplated  plans  for  the  arrest  of 
certain  leaders  who  were  expected  to  impede  mobiliza- 

272 


THE  (DIS)UNITED  STATES  OF  EUROPE?     273 

tion.  In  the  moment  of  invasion  these,  like  all  the  others, 
came  into  the  army  ready  to  defend  their  homes." 

The  same  was  true  of  other  countries.  As  a  result, 
the  question  of  some  measure  of  control  of  the  interna- 
tional currents  is  to-day  a  question  not  of  the  destruction 
of  national  political  lines  and  boundaries,  but  merely  of 
dulling  the  edges  of  those  boundaries  by  some  sort  of 
permanent  economic  and  social  confederation  such  as  is 
represented  at  this  moment  in  general  type  if  not  in  de- 
gree, by  the  League  of  Nations  (now  that  the  President's 
Conference  has  taken  no  continuing  or  permanent  form). 

Is  that  possible  or  impossible? 

It  has  been  quite  common  to  place  the  blame  for  the 
present  high  tension  of  the  various  nationalistic  antago- 
nisms and  competitions  of  Europe  and  the  rest  of  the 
world  on  the  diplomats  who  assembled  for  the  making  of 
the  Versailles  Treaty.  That  means  that  we  view  these 
gentlemen  as  if  they  had  arisen,  uncaused,  unfathered, 
full-panoplied  with  all  their  shifty  wiles  and  whisperings, 
out  of  some  unruffled  sea.  That  view  has  the  advantage 
of  saving  the  faces  of  us  all  by  freeing  our  shoulders  com- 
pletely from  whatever  errors  time  may  have  shown  to 
follow  their  decisions.  The  trouble  is  that  it  misses  what 
is  immensely  closer  to  the  facts — namely,  that  these 
diplomats  were  and  are  little  more  than  the  employees  of 
their  peoples  and  the  spokesmen  of  the  hatreds,  fears, 
and  hopes  engendered  in  the  hearts  of  those  peoples  by 
the  long  past,  and  intensified  by  the  recent,  conflict. 

At  the  conference,  in  point  of  fact,  President  Wilson 
was  the  only  one  who  was  free  to  express  his  own  per- 
sonal idealism,  and  then  devote  the  rest  of  his  term  to 


274    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

proving  its  value  to  his  public.  Every  other  represen- 
tative could  be  forced  out  of  the  meeting  and  out  of  the 
leadership  of  his  country  within  twenty-four  hours  after 
agreeing  in  spoken  or  written  word  to  anything,  large 
or  small,  which  happened  to  be  repugnant  to  the  feelings 
of  his  constituency  at  the  moment,  however  wise  it  might 
come  to  appear  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  months,  or 
years.  That  is  simply  to  say  that  the  forces  for  the  mak- 
ing of  the  treaty  were  precisely  the  same  forces  which 
to-day  exist  for  the  making — or  the  marring — of  the 
world's  future,  peaceful  or  otherwise,  organized  or  un- 
organized— namely,  the  feelings  of  the  peoples  involved. 

"But  I  must  add,  with  the  consent  of  my  colleagues, 
that  the  policy  which  I  have  endeavored  to  set  forth  just 
now  was  in  actuality  the  policy  of  the  British  Empire 
yesterday  morning  at  ten  o'clock."  So  Earl  Baifour  is 
reported  to  have  replied  with  a  smile  in  a  meeting  where 
his  explanation  was  stopped  by  his  Prime  Minister. 

The  particular  form  in  which  these  emotions  will  ex- 
press themselves  is  impossible  to  predict.  But  the  main- 
springs beneath  these  particular  forms  are  not  likely 
greatly  to  change  for  some  time,  for  the  reason  that  these 
mainsprings  are  emotions  which  were  tempered  to  their 
present  fixity  in  the  heat  of  the  highest  conceivable  in- 
tensity— the  intensity  which  always  follows  when  mortal 
and  uttermost  threat  is  made  against  the  very  life  of  a 
person  or  a  group.  So  it  may  help  toward  the  answer 
to  our  query  if  we  merely  catalogue  those  underlying 
feelings  from  which  the  near  future  is  sure  to  result : 

First,  France's  fear  for  her  life  at  the  hands  of  Germany 
unless  protection  by  others  can  somehow  be  made  fairly 
certain. 


THE  (DIS)UNITED  STATES  OF  EUROPE|?     275 

Second,  Germany's  concentration  of  her  hurt  pride 
and  fear  for  her  own  national  existence  hi  her  hatred  of 
France. 

Third,  the  hunger  of  both  the  British  worker  and  the 
British  capitalist  for  the  wages  and  profits  of  a  normal, 
buying  world. 

Fourth,  the  hankering  of  Russia's  people  for  the  square 
meals  of  normalcy  as  soon  as  these  can  be  secured  with- 
out the  loss  of  the  face — and,  perhaps,  the  lives — of  the 
leaders. 

Fifth,  the  nationalistic  instincts  of  self-preservation 
on  the  part  of  Austria,  Hungary,  and  the  Balkans. 

Sixth,  the  political-religious  instinct  of  self-esteem  on 
the  part  of  the  Moslem  and  Hindu  worlds. 

Seventh,  the  wish  of  America  to  retain  her  traditional 
political  aloofness  if  this  can  be  done  without  serious 
hurt  to  her  commercial  pre-eminence. 

War  weariness  and  war  hatred  intensify  all  these,  but 
unfortunately  may  almost  as  easily  cause  as  prevent 
war.  For  the  first  of  these  two  means  the  touchi- 
ness of  the  high  explosive  of  "  tiredness  and  temper." 
The  second  is  only  a  hatred  of  war  in  general.  Unluckily, 
nobody  ever  goes  off  to  fight  a  war  in  general.  It  is  al- 
ways a  war  in  particular — against  a  particular  adversary 
and  for  the  redress  of  a  particular  wrong  or  hurt.  Due 
nationalistic  emphasis  upon  that  particular  grievance 
can  undoubtedly  be  expected,  for  a  long  time  to  come, 
to  secure  all  the  cannon  fodder — yes,  all  the  voluntary 
cannon  fodder — needed. 

Something  like  these  appear  to  me  the  emotions  from 
which  must  be  worked  out  somehow  the  future  behavior 
of  the  world.  But  how,  then,  can  such  a  mass  of  oppos- 


276    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

ing  instincts  be  worked  into  a  going  and  concerted  pro- 
gramme that  will  give  some  measure  of  expectation  for 
the  larger  and  less  hampered  opportunities  and  securi- 
ties so  much  prayed  for? 

Well,  if  our  original  thesis  is  true,  that  we  live  ourselves 
into  our  thinking  infinitely  more  than  we  think  ourselves 
into  our  living,  then  there  is  no  possibility  of  finding  our 
way  into  an  organized  world  by  preliminary  argument 
or  reason.  Nothing  is  more  futile  than  for  any  one  of 
these  peoples  to  try  to  convince  the  other  that  its  par- 
ticular fear  or  wish  is  altogether  groundless.  There  the 
emotion  is — the  actual  and  unavoidable  residuum  of 
actual  and  unavoidable  experience  and  life.  The  argu- 
ment of  such  emotions  and  the  argument  of  logic  simply 
do  not  meet.  The  only  way  is  to  find  at  once,  on  some 
sector  or  other,  every  possible  opportunity  to  think  and 
feel  co-operation  by  first  experiencing  and  living  it. 

WQiat,  then,  are  the  fields  and  the  forces  in  the  present 
actual  and  unavoidable  living  of  the  world's  day-by-day 
life  which  tend,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  to  lessen 
the  intensity  of  those  antagonizing  emotions  and  so  to 
propel  the  world's  life  in  the  direction  of  the  indispensable 
co-operative  feelings? 

Surely,  the  first  of  these  is  that  modern  platform  of 
world-wide  publicity  and  opinion — that  world-wide  stage 
on  which  to  enjoy  the  sense  of  national  self-respect  in 
relationship  with  the  other  national  actors.  Even  though 
this  went  far  to  cause  the  recent  war,  nevertheless,  its 
further  development  is  certain  to  make  other  wars  more 
difficult  because,  as  its  power  grows,  it  tends  to  make 
bayonets  unnecessary  and  victories  resultless. 


THE  (DIS)UNITED  STATES  OF  EUROPE?     277 

Second,  and  closely  allied  with  that,  is  the  unity  of 
culture  in  the  spread  of  the  practices  and  conventions  of 
a  common  industrial  and  social  life. 

Third,  the  "self-determination  of  raw  materials,"  and 
the  exchange  and  interdependence  which  these  require, 
aided  by — 

Fourth,  the  "seK-determination"  of  both  profits  and 
wages  as  a  force  toward  simplifying  the  political  as  well 
as  the  commercial  processes  of  this  exchange  and  niter- 
dependence — the  pressure  of  "big  business"  and  "over- 
head" in  the  direction  of  removing  all  possible  friction 
to  the  flow  of  goods  throughout  the  widest  possible  mar- 
kets. This  the  war  has  demonstrated  to  be  most  profit- 
ably gamed,  not  by  force  but  by  the  competition  of 
economic  service. 

Just  as  hi  our  nation-wide  commerce  the  recent  experi- 
ence with  child  labor  has  forced  more  and  more  considera- 
tion of  the  Federal  Government  as  the  only  effective 
means  of  preventing  the  backwardness  of  one  State  from 
working  harm  to  others  as  well  as  itself,  so  both  profits 
and  wages  everywhere  are  seeing  that  the  existence  of  a 
world  market  on  any  basis  of  fairness  requires  the  help 
of  some  middle  and  inclusive  organization.  Just  as,  also, 
each  national  unit  has  found  a  policy  of  "Laissez  faire," 
unfair  in  practice  unless  modified  by  public  opinion,  so 
every  fresh  development  of  the  competitive  warfare  is 
certain  to  produce  a  world-wide  opinion  favoring  and 
requiring  some  sort  of  central  referee.  Furthermore,  the 
post-war  unemployment  has  demonstrated  as  never  be- 
fore to  every  group  of  workers  that  its  wages  depend 
upon  both  the  continued  and  the  expanding  ability  of 


278    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

other  groups  of  workers  elsewhere  about  the  world  to 
buy  the  products  of  their  hands  and  hours.  Without 
such  a  " creative  evolution  in  business,"  the  whole 
machine  of  civilization  comes  to  a  dead  stop.* 

Fifth:  The  " United  States  of  Great  Britain"  as  an 
accomplished  "  Commonwealth  of  Nations/'  now  fur- 
nishes daily  the  world's  most  active  and  going  demon- 
stration of  a  political,  social,  and  economic  federation, 
which  involves  one-fifth  the  total  population  of  the  globe. 

Sixth:  The  increased  solidarity  of  Christendom,  in  re- 
sponse to  the  religious-political  threat  referred  to. 

Seen  or  unseen,  these  forces  are  now  influencing  the 
daily  living  of  tens  of  millions  and  they  are  bound  to 
influence  their  thinking  and  their  feeling.  Avoiding  the 
field  of  argument,  these  forces  work  daily  upon  those 
supernationalistic  attitudes  and  emotions  by  calling 
forth  such  mechanisms  of  peace  as  the  League's  Barce- 
lona transit  conference  for  facilitating  traffic  on  bodies  of 
water  which  serve  groups  of  nations.  In  their  attrition 
upon  these  attitudes  and  emotions,  however,  "time  is  of 
the  essence":  the  sure  results  must  not  be  expected  too 
quickly.  On  the  other  hand,  the  concentric  forces  of 
modern  business  and  communications  are  so  recent  as 
compared  with  the  ages  of  comparative  isolation  and 
insulation,  and  are  multiplying  themselves  in  such  geomet- 
ric ratio,  that  a  wireless  year  may  easily  prove  more  re- 
sultful  in  changing  men's  lives  and  attitudes  than  a  post- 
chaise  century. 

Gladstone  has  defined  the  spirit  of  conservatism  and 
Toryism  as  "the  distrust  of  the  people  qualified  by  fear," 

*See  "  Full  Up  and  Fed  Up,"  pp.  308-317. 


THE  (DIS)UNITED  STATES  OF  EUROPE?     279 

as  opposed  to  the  liberal's  "  trust  in  the  people  qualified 
by  prudence."  Oddly  enough,  Europe  feels  to-day  that 
one  of  the  most  puzzling  of  all  obstacles  to  world  organi- 
zation is  this  " distrust  of  the  people'7 — of  other  peoples 
— as  represented  by  history's  greatest  democracy.  By 
our  assumption  that  other  nations  are  not  to  be  trusted, 
we  Americans  endeavor  to  rationalize  our  wish  to  stand 
aloof.  The  real  difficulty  is  doubtless  much  the  same  as 
that  which  keeps  the  bookworm  off  the  dance  floor — the 
feeling  of  inferiority  hi  one  sector  as  compared  with  that 
of  comfortable  pre-eminence  in  another.  Perfectly  sure 
of  ourselves  at  home  and  at  work,  we  cannot  yet  over- 
come our  embarrassment  on  the  platform  of  world-wide 
politics  to  which  our  commercial  success  tends  unmis- 
takably to  draw  us.  Our  behavior  is  thus  the  result  of 
that  comparative  inexperience  with  and  ignorance  of 
other  peoples  which  has  been  the  natural  result  of  our 
development. 

It  may  more  easily  prove  to  be  the  cause  of  a  great 
World  War  than  we  imagine.  To  be  sure,  that  outcome 
is  inconceivably  distant  from  our  mind  or  purpose.  But 
we  embark  upon  a  highly  dangerous  career  the  moment 
we  assume  that  the  cause  of  all  war  is  ill-will.  For  the 
very  next  moment  we  feel  free  to  reach  the  infinitely 
more  dangerous  assumption  that  the  certainty  of  our 
mood  of  peace — our  friendliness  toward  all  mankind — 
completely  justifies  a  virtual  refusal  to  co-operate  with 
others  in  the  mechanisms  of  peace.  But  the  cause  of  war, 
whether  between  nation  and  nation,  or  employer  and 
employee,  is  not  ill-will.  It  is  ignorance.  For  ignorance 
leads  to  the  desire  for  mental  and  spiritual  isolation — the 


280    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

avoidance  of  that  sense  of  inferiority  which  follows  con- 
tact with  those  we  do  not  understand.  With  spiritual 
isolation  in  the  unavoidable  presence  of  the  unknown, 
comes  always  fear.  That  fear  unfailingly  thrusts  toward 
armament — and  that  thrust  remains  even  after  all  the 
neighborhood's  acquaintances  and  strangers  have  met 
about  the  conference  table  and  agreed  to  restrict  their 
armament  to  certain  ratios.  After  armament,  in  turn, 
comes  arrogance:  the  man  whose  fear  of  his  unknown 
neighbor  makes  him  carry  an  according-to-ratio  32-cali- 
ber  automatic  can  never  understand  why  he  should  be 
expected  to  show  conciliation — especially  when  he  knows 
that  his  neighbor  carries  only  a  22.  It  was  a  Greek  tra- 
gedian who  long  ago  described  the  next  and  final  step — 
especially  for  those  who  add  to  isolation  and  armament 
the  vastest  aggregation  of  wealth  and  temporal  power 
the  ages  have  ever  known: 

"Always  presumption  blossoms 
And  the  fruit  is  doom 
And  all  the  harvest  tears." 

The  first  step  toward  war  is  always  taken  by  the  poli- 
tician or  the  employer — or  labor  leader — the  moment  he 
assumes  that  either  his  good-will  or  his  ill-will  makes  it 
either  kind  or  safe  for  him  to  remain  ignorant  of  the  hopes 
and  fears  at  the  bottom  of  his  neighbor's  heart. 

Luckily  the  Golden  Rule  may  be  expected  to  work  as 
successfully  for  the  new  and  vastly  complicated  and 
enlarged  relationships  of  the  radio  era  as  for  the  old; 
but  only  if  we  see  in  that  rule  the  challenge  to  a  new  em- 
phasis. As  rapidly  as  the  wireless  and  the  turbine  expand 


THE  (DIS)UNITED  STATES  OF  EUROPE?     281 

the  word  " neighbor,"  so  rapidly  it  becomes  necessary 
to  understand  the  futility  of  mere  good-will.  In  the 
old  days  we  lived  so  closely  to  "the  other  fellow  "  that 
with  the  help  of  a  moment's  sympathetic  imagination 
we  could  hope  to  put  ourselves  into  his  shoes  and  so  feel 
free  to  decide  how  he  would  wish  to  "be  done  by."  But 
to-day !  How  is  our  imagination  to  know  the  heart  of  a 
neighbor  whose  life  daily  affects  our  own,  but  who  lives 
and  moves  at  vast  psychological  distances  away  from  us, 
across  the  ocean — or  perhaps  in  the  coal  town  or  the 
steel  plant  only  a  few  blocks  or  miles  away?  As  never 
before,  good-will  is  helpless  and  awkward  unless  directed 
by  intelligence  based  upon  long  effort  in  collecting  facts 
and  interpreting  them  with  sympathy.  Neither  of  these 
two  can  displace  the  other.  With  either  of  them  alone, 
feelings  may  be  hurt,  and  the  hurt  feelings  of  a  group's 
injured  or  threatened  self-respect  will  always  serve — and 
always  should  serve — as  the  vestibule  to  war  until  their 
healing  can  be  made  possible  by  somewhat  the  same  ar- 
rangements as  individuals  have  contrived  to  set  up  and 
operate  for  themselves.  The  hope  of  the  world's  peace 
is  that  the  great  majority  of  the  new  fields  and  forces  of 
our  modern  living  are  pushing  harder  in  the  direction  of 
both  intelligence  and  good-will — and  the  arrangements 
they  call  for — than  are  the  older  forces  which  oppose 
them.  That  does  not  mean  that  there  may  not  be  new 
wars,  nor  that  there  is  no  need  to  hurry!  Time  is  on 
the  side  of  the  centripetal  forces — if  only  the  centrif- 
ugal do  not  bring  destruction  before  time  has  its  de- 
cent chance ! 

But  this  larger  admixture  of  information  and  facts  for 


282    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

guiding  our  feelings  does  not  by  any  means  lessen  the 
need  of  that  initial  spark  of  pure  good-will  by  which  its 
possessor  makes  bold — with  nothing  but  the  strength  of 
faith — to  enter  into  closer  relations  with  the  still  un- 
known neighbor.  It  is  the  tragedy  of  our  day-by-day 
existence  as  individuals  that  the  weariness  of  our  bodies 
so  often  hinders  the  turning  of  our  feet  into  this  path 
of  hope  at  just  the  moment  when  that  turning  is  most 
vital  to  our  soul's  salvation.  Considering  the  colossal  de- 
pletion of  both  her  body  and  her  spirit  the  marvel  is  that 
Europe  has  already  turned  as  far  as  she  has  in  the  direc- 
tion of  peace.  The  question  of  her  successfully  making 
the  corner  appears  to  me  to  depend  upon  this  query:  Is 
America  willing  to  express  the  spiritual  and  material 
wealth  of  her  comparative  freedom  from  fatigue  by  one 
comparatively  simple  but  highly  and  nobly  challenging 
step? 

" Neither  the  steady  jobs  and,  so,  the  steady  life  and 
steady  thought  and  feeling  you  speak  of  can  come  in 
England — nor  the  absence  of  fear  hi  France  and  elsewhere 
— until  Germany  is  more  settled.  And  that  cannot  come 
until  the  reparations  matter  is  reconsidered. "  So  an 
astute  statesman  hi  Washington  replied  recently:  "But 
the  reparations  question  cannot  be  modified  with  the 
consent  of  France  until  her  obligations  to  us  can  also 
be  modified — and  you  or  any  one  else  who  has  seen  the 
destruction  of  France's  homes  and  its  means  of  livelihood 
can  realize  how  properly  she  comes  to  consider  Germany's 
debts  to  her  quite  as  definite  and  as  essential  as  we  con- 
sider her  debt  to  us — in  fact,  infinitely  more  so.  Now 
we  here  in  official  Washington  favor  some  modification 


THE  (DIS) UNITED  STATES  OF  EUROPE?     283 

of  France's  and  of  all  the  allied  debts  to  us  on  the  under- 
standing that  Germany  also  will  benefit.  But  we  do  not 
believe  the  American  public  will  listen  to  any  such  pro- 
posal— not  at  this  moment.  In  six  months  we  hope  that 
everybody  here  will  see  that  it  is  just  as  impossible  for 
France  to  pay  all  her  debts  to  us  as  for  Germany  to  pay 
France — and  that,  therefore,  we  might  just  as  well  get 
the  credit  of  being  a  kindly  dispositioned  creditor.  We 
would  lose  nothing  in  actual  cash  and  probably  gain  much 
in  good-will.  But  for  the  moment  at  least,  the  admin- 
istration believes  itself  hamstrung — and  so  the  world's 
impasse  continues." 

After  a  very  wide  range  of  contact  with  public  opinion 
in  this  country,  I  believe  that  the  view-point  of  the  vast 
majority  of  our  fellow  citizens  is  about  like  this: 

"Yes,  I'd  be  for  doing  the  fair  thing  in  this  matter  of 
reparations  and  debts.  I'm  for  forgetting  the  war — for 
getting  busy  again.  And  if  our  assurance  and  action 
would  help  them  to  lessen  their  armament  and  get  busy, 
then  I'm  for  it.  But  of  course  I  wouldn't  propose  this — 
not  just  now — because  the  people  I  know — well,  they're 
a  hard-boiled  crowd,  you  know,  and  they're  against  it — • 
and  will  be  for,  maybe,  six  months." 

I  believe  that  as  a  whole,  the  Land  of  Getting  On  and 
the  Continent  of  Hope — of  hope  justified  by  more  than 
a  century  of  hope  fulfilled — stands  to-day  more  than 
willing  to  give  to  the  Land  of  Denim  and  Crape  and  to 
the  Continent  of  Fear — of  fear  justified  by  centuries  of 
fear  fulfilled — that  demonstration  of  co-operation  which 
is  needed  to  speed  the  forces  now  working  surely  but 
slowly  to  restore  the  equilibrium  of  peace  and  organized 


284    HORNY  HANDS  AND  HAMPERED  ELBOWS 

steady  work  and  business.  Certainly  such  aid  will  assist 
enormously  to  the  happiness  of  all  the  millions  of  owners 
of  those  horny  hands  and  hampered  elbows.  But  every 
day  which  decreases  our  material  resources  or  increases 
our  communications  with  the  lands  of  already  decreased 
treasures,  brings  nearer  the  tune  when  it  will  be  ourselves 
who  will  suffer  from  the  same  restrictions  of  the  disap- 
pearing furniture  and  the  contracting  room  of  the  crowded 
world. 

"In  a  couple  of  minutes,  sir,  we'll  be  a-mikin*  'istory, 
won't  we,  sir?"  the  sergeant  whispered  to  the  captain 
who  stood  watch  in  hand,  waiting  for  the  zero  hour's 
signal  to  go  over  the  top. 

" History?  History  be  hanged!"  returned  the  cap- 
tain. "What  we've  got  to  do  to-day  is  to  make  geog- 
raphy" 

It  is  not  so  much  American  idealism  as  the  good  sense 
made  possible  by  our  life  in  one  of  the  world's  compara- 
tively unwearied  and  hopeful  areas  that,  more  than  any 
other  single  force,  can  hasten  the  coming  of  the — com- 
paratively speaking — "  United  States  of  Europe."  That 
will  make  history,  indeed,  but  it  will  also  be  the  only 
conceivable  assurance  of  our  own  peace  and  safety,  now 
that  the  Atlantic  Ocean  has  become  so  completely  use- 
less as  a  shock-absorber. 

Sentiment,  however,  is  always  a  greater  and,  in  the 
long  run,  a  better,  mainspring  to  action — and  especially 
to  difficult  action — than  sense.  So  the  motive  that  will 
finally — and  shortly — persuade  us  to  stop  scolding  and  to 
commence  demonstrating  to  Europe  our  best  combina- 
tion of  both  good- will  and  intelligence — of  sense  and  sym- 


THE  (DIS)UNITED  STATES  OF  EUROPE?     285 

pathy — will  not  be  our  cold-blooded  "horse-sense."  It 
will  be  our  sentiment,  our  wish — our  traditional,  national 
wish — to  continue  to  earn  our  right,  not  to  the  world's 
trade  but  to  its  good  opinion  of  us  as  a  nation^of  prac- 
tical idealists  whose  joy  is  that  we  helped  to  win  a  spiri- 
tual as  well  as  a  military  victory  on  Flanders  Field: 

"Like  the  Catholic  man  who  hath  mightily  won 
God  out  of  knowledge  and  good  out  of  infinite  pain: 
Sight  out  of  blindness  and  purity  out  of  a  stain." 


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OCT  0  7  1992 

SEP  281937 

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HOY  1*  1 

FEB  16  k943 

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LD  21-95wi-7,'37 

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